Another dragon, another wolf, another stag
by Deus Swiftblade
Summary: They had heard of the tourney at Harrenhal. They had heard of the rebellion that followed. They had heard of the defeated stag and the threatening wolf. They had thought that was just the past and was no concern of theirs. But the gods seem to enjoy watching the same play being preformed again, just with different mummers and at a different place.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 1: Rhaenys

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

Rhaenys sat in her chair and watched as the feast went on all around her. On the other side of the table, Aegon was talking to Hoster Tully's son, Edmure. The two of them had arrived ahead of their parents so that they could enjoy some of the tournament without the king and queen of Westeros looking for a betrothal match for her. They hadn't come alone. Their grandmother, Queen Dowager Rhaella, sat at the table next to her. Beside her was her daughter and Rhaenys's aunt, Daenerys.

But in spite of the feast, the eldest child of King Rhaegar Targaryen and Queen Elia Martell was bored. She had been to many feasts like this one and after a while, they just started to meld together. It was the same for the tournament the Tullys were hosting, especially since she was only watching it.

Her eyes wandered throughout the hall, seeing all who were there. Her uncle Oberyn was talking quite happily with Willas Tyrell at one of the lower tables, something that no one would think could or would happen (not even after what happened between the two of them). Her cousins, from both of her uncles, sat near Oberyn, watching everything in sight.

Arianne had an amused little smirk on her lips, like she saw something that was amusing to her. Nym had the same smile as well. Together, they survived the men with eyes full of promised heat and desire. Tyene did the same, only with demure eyes and a chaste smile. Rhaenys knew that there would be many men lusting after them in the days to come.

Across the hall at the table opposite her cousins sat Willas's family. Lord Tyrell had stayed at Highgarden (something everyone was relieved to hear and know) but had sent his children and his mother to Riverrun in his stead. Rhaenys had met the almost legendary Queen of Thorns before and was most impressed by her. She was the only woman she could think of that was able to rein in Arianne and the Sand Snakes with just a few biting remarks.

Ser Garlan sat with his wife while his younger brother Loras and sister Margaery sat beside him. While the Knight of the Flowers was talking to his brother, their sister kept sending looks at Aegon, smiling demurely at him whenever his eyes appeared to be looking at her, turning her head away at the sight of him, playing the nervous and chaste maiden for all that it was worth.

She had heard the story many times in her life. During the War of the Usurper, Lord Tyrell marched his army to Storm's End and besieged it. While he never truly did manage to break though into the castle, he had kept the younger brothers of the Usurper trapped inside as well as their remaining strength. It was enough to send Randyll Tarly and his men to support the royal army after they heard of the victory at the Stoney Step. For their loyalty, when he ascended the throne her father gave them what they had always desired: a betrothal agreement between their two families. Once they were of age, Aegon and Margaery were to be wed.

But even as he talked to Ser Edmure, Aegon's eyes wandered the hall and they were not looking for the Rose of Highgarden. His sister knew who it was he was looking for. _"She's not here, little brother,"_ she thought to herself. _"You know that she would not be allowed here tonight. Why do you search for her still?"_ She already knew the answer to that: he thought himself to be in love.

Lord Jon Arryn and his heir, Ser Harry, sat close to the Tyrells but kept to themselves with the lords of the Vale surrounding them like a protective shield. Ever since the war, the Vale had not been on good terms with the Iron Throne. Lord Arryn had kept himself in the Eyrie since bending the knee and had only traveled to Riverrun at the insistence of Ser Harry, or so she had heard.

The other realm that was not on good terms with her family was that of the stormlords and their liege lords, House Baratheon. Well, that wasn't entirely true. The younger generation of lords and ladies who could not remember the war loyally served the Iron Throne. She counted Renly Baratheon to be a good friend of both her and Aegon. But it was his brother, Stannis, and the lords who were forced to bend the knee after Robert Baratheon died who ruled the Stormlands and offered only cold hospitality to them. And while the younger of the two sat with the Tryells, the elder was sitting with his own lords alongside his daughter.

A flash of golden hair moving made her turn to see Tyrion Lannister make his way back to the table where he and his family were sitting. Even though he had sent his son and his daughter along with his brothers, Lord Tywin had not come himself. The head of House Lannister had not come out from the Rock ever since the Rebellion.

Rhaenys knew why. He had come late to the war, only after hearing the victory for the crown at the Trident where her father had slain Robert Baratheon in single combat. Because of this, he received no reward from her father when he became king but neither was he punished. Of course, that was the official reasoning. She had long since learned from her father and mother that they had punished him by keeping Ser Jaime, his eldest son and the heir he wanted, in the Kingsguard.

Thinking of the Kingslayer, she looked to where he was standing in silence. His blonde hair and green eyes easily showed his Lannister blood. It was a strange thing to think of him as the Kingslayer when no one had punished him for killing the Mad King. She knew him to be a good man who had a good wit about him but there were always the whispers of "Kingslayer" at his back where he went.

His gaze had met that of his sister's once during the feast, something that Rhaenys had noticed. She couldn't help but scowl at the sight of Lord Tywin's daughter. While she liked Ser Jaime, the same could not be said for Cersei Lannister. In fact, she hated the golden-haired bitch. Even though she was married and had children of her own, she would always stare at her father with lust and want in her eyes every time she had come to court. It was common knowledge in her family that Lord Tywin had still hoped for a marriage between her and Father until he was told by King Rhaegar that it was not going to happen. That didn't stop from both the Lion of the Rock and his daughter from trying to get her eldest son betrothed to her.

Tyrion, on the other hand, was a curiosity. She had met him a few rare times when his lord father had allowed him to leave the Rock and follow his sister to court. He was a dwarf and while he had the hair of a Lannister, there was also black in there too. His face wasn't comely either. It looked like it belonged to a brigand instead. And yet, despite of all the ugliness he carried along with his stunted height, he was one of the cleverest men she had known.

Only two of the Great Houses were not here at this feast and while no one really gave a care about the ironmen or House Greyjoy, it was the other House not being here that gave the air a small sense of unease, something that had been there since the end of Robert's Rebellion. Even they had raised their banners and rebelled against her grandfather, House Stark and the North had not technically joined in the Rebellion.

According to the maesters, the wildings had crowned a King-beyond-the-Wall and descended upon the Night's Watch just as the Rebellion had begun, prompting Eddard Stark to go north with his army instead of south. By the time the wildings had been dealt with and he could turn his army south, the rebels had been defeated. Lord Stark did come south to find his sister, sailing to Dorne where she was being kept. But he had arrived too late and found her dead.

From what she learned, he took her body back to the North and threatened the Iron Throne with continued rebellion (some had told her that he would've gone so far as declaring himself King in the North if he did). Most lords would've marched on the North to quash the supposed rebellion but winter was looming and even though the royal army had been victorious, it was also tired. So her father sued for peace and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms had held their breath to see his response. That breath was released when the raven came back with an agreement to the peace with only one demand, which was now just as famous as the Rains of Castamere. She had seen the message before, as the king had kept it all these years. The demand was only one sentence.

A brother for a sister.

She didn't know what was going through her parents' minds at the time. But she would have guessed they thought it was a small price to pay for peace. That was why her own uncle Viserys had been sent to be fostered at Winterfell as a hostage.

Since then, she had heard many people laugh at the northerners, calling them cravens and toothless dogs. And despite also hearing maesters and people who had fought in the war or knew war claim that if there had not been a threat beyond the Wall, there might've been a different king sitting on the Iron Throne, both Rhaenys and Aegon were more inclined to believe the naysayers, simply because they were more their age than any other and their friends as well. But while she didn't know about her brother, Rhaenys lost that opinion after the Greyjoy Rebellion.

While the rest of the Seven Kingdoms had been reeling from Balon Greyjoy's surprise attacks and regrouping to attack, the North had struck first. Ships had sailed south and attacked the Iron Islands while its fleet was out at sea. Such was the fury, strength, and speed of the northerners' invasion of the islands that by the time the royal navy had landed on Pyke, the grey direwolf flew over the castle, not the golden kraken. And when Lord Greyjoy had bent the knee, they left just as swiftly as they had come, taking with the remaining son of Balon. People still claimed that the northerners were cravens, but not as many as before.

Her thoughts were broken when the herald at the door banged his staff against the floor, rattling the stones and the rafters. All eyes turned to him the sound of revelry died down. "The Prince Viserys Targaryen and with him, the House Stark!" he cried out in a great voice.

The doors to the hall opened, letting Rhaenys's uncle come walking in and the majority of House Stark following him. She only had a few vague memories of Viserys and they were all about a boy. But who came through the doors was no boy. Her uncle was a man and it showed. He was tall, but not as tall as her father. His blonde white hair fell to the base of his neck and he was growing a beard. He wore a cloak of fur and carried a sword like he knew how to wield it.

Behind him marched the House Stark. To Rhaenys's surprise, she did not see Lord Stark leading them. Instead, it was Lady Catelyn Stark who led the family. Beside her was a youth of Rhaenys's age who had the coloring of a Tully. If she had to guess, he was Lord Stark's heir, Robb, who had been named for the Usurper. For the most part, the children that followed him could've been Tullys at the first glance by a southerner's eyes. The only exceptions were the Greyjoy walking with them with a cocky smirk on his face, the youngest girl who was obviously a Stark, and the eldest, who was neither Stark nor Tully in looks and stood at the rear of the group, a good three steps apart.

Rhaenys smiled at the eldest girl, who saw it and silently returned it. It had been well over eight years since they last saw each other. Jocelyn Sand had her mother's dark hair and purple eyes. At five-and-ten, she already had a woman's figure and men's eyes followed her. The princess knew her as a playmate when they had been children.

Just like their mothers before them, they had become fast friends when Ashara Dayne brought her daughter to King's Landing. Jocelyn had been well-loved by everyone who had met her and was soon called the Sand Rose. But when Lady Ashara had fallen sick and then recovered, she had decided to send her daughter north to the Starks. Why, she did not know and no matter how many times she asked, her mother would not tell her.

Edmure stood up from his chair. "Sister!" he said happily at the sight of Lady Catelyn. For a moment, Rhaenys thought that he would run around the table to embrace her. But instead, he seemed to have caught himself and instead turned to her uncle. "Prince Viserys please partake of my bread and salt and be welcome in my father's hall."

"I and House Stark accept it gratefully," he replied easily enough. "And it is good to see my family once more." The beard and salt were quickly given to them and they took it.

"Has anyone told you that you look like an old man with that beard hanging off your face, nuncle?" Aegon asked him, getting a laugh from the younger of men and women in the hall. Even Rhaenys cracked a smile at that jape.

But Viserys did not laugh nor did he grow angry. He just stood there as the laughter continued and eventually died away. No one in the south had seen Viserys ever since he had been sent away. They did not know how he would react (or worse, if he had inherited the madness that plagued House Targaryen). "I might look like an old man," he began. "But I am a man, whereas you, nephew, look like a babe barely out of swaddling." This time, the elder generation laughed at the jape made and her little brother spluttered. "But then, you _were_ a babe in swaddling the last I saw you," he added as an afterthought.

Rhaella and Dany stood up from the table and walked around it, their sworn shield watching them with his eyes and keeping his hand close to his sword. They came to a stop before Viserys and Rhaella embraced him tightly. He embraced her just as tightly and Rhaenys would've sworn that there were tears of joy in her grandmother's eyes.

When they were done embracing one another, her uncle turned to his sister. She looked down at the ground, not looking him in the eyes. Dany had always been a little shy to strangers but this was her blood. _"Look up, Dany,"_ Rhaenys silently urged her. She couldn't afford to look weak here.

But then Viserys reached out to touch the bottom of her chin, lifting it up to so their eyes could meet. "The last time I saw you was when I was to leave for Winterfell," he told her. "Mother had given you to me so I could hold you one last time. I told you that no matter where I went or how long I was gone, you would always be my sister. Then you reached up with your tiny hand and pulled my nose."

Everyone who heard that either sniggered or giggled. Dany had been one of the gigglers. Then she embraced her brother just as tightly as her mother had. Rhaenys smiled at the sight. "Cat, where is Ned?" Lord Edmure asked his sister. "I thought he would've come."

"He stayed behind at Winterfell," Lady Stark answered. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell."

When she heard those words, Rhaenys hid a small sound of disappointment. She had wanted to meet the Lord of Winterfell. Like Lord Tywin, he did not leave his home (the last time that he did was to go to war against the Greyjoys). But unlike the lion, neither she nor Aegon had ever met the wolf. They had been told of him and she had an image in her head of a cold northern lord who waited in the midst of winter with sword in hand from what she had been told. But not once had the royal family gone north or Lord Stark come south again.

She noticed that the youngest Stark boy had gone over to the eldest and tugged on his cape. He whispered his brother's ear. Robb Stark grinned at him, nodded his head once, and stood back up. "My lord uncle," he called out to Edmure. "Would you mind if my family brought in some additional guests to this feast?"

"Of course, by all means," Edmure replied. "You are my family; I see no reason to deny you this."

For some reason, that made Viserys smirk and Lady Stark turn her head to look at her son. There was a look of warning on her face but he had already placed his fingers on his lips and blew a sharp, clear note.

What came next sent the entire hall scrambling back from their seats with shouts of horror and surprise. Five giant beasts made their way into the hall, heading towards the Stark with speed. Rhaenys had thought that they were going to attack until the youngest Stark cried out, "Shaggy!" and the blackest of the beasts stopped before him to lick his face, making him giggle. The other four creatures circled around the rest of the Starks, but they were not attacking them.

It was only when they slowed down that she realized what they were and she was not the only one. "Gods be good," Aegon said from where he stood. "Are those…?"

"Aye, direwolves," Lady Stark said with a resigned voice, giving her eldest son a look of reproach. "Do not worry; they have been raised from pups by my children. And they will behave themselves." The last sentence was directed at her children and only her eldest son and daughter looked embarrassed (the daughter more than Robb), the others were more content on playing with their wolves.

Once the initial shock of the wolves had passed and the Starks had been seated, the feast continued. To Rhaenys's displeasure, Jocelyn sat at one of the lower tables, unable to come to the high table and eat with her old friend. All it had taken was one stern look from Lady Stark and Jocelyn had retreated. _"Clearly the North has weakened her,"_ she silently decided. What else could've happened to the fiery girl she knew? She had thought that not even the cold north could've tamed her but apparently, it was so.

She grew bored and stood up from the table. The Starks were down at the other end so she would have no problem getting out easily. "Is everything alright, Rhaenys?" Daenerys asked her quietly.

She smiled. "I'm fine, Dany. I'm just retiring for the evening." Even though she was her aunt, Daenerys was still younger than she was and it felt odd to call her Aunt. Thankfully, she didn't have a problem with that. Rather, she insisted on being called Dany (which everyone, except for the king and her mother, did).

She strode away from the table and the hall. As she left, a familiar clanking sound filled her ears. "Uncle," she said to her great uncle, Prince Lewyn Martell.

"Princess," he said in return. "You are returning to your quarters?"

"Yes."

"Shall I lead you?"

She frowned at him. "I do know my way to my quarters, nuncle." She wasn't a child.

He smiled faintly. "Then lead the way."

She did just that. But as they walked through the corridors, she quickly found out that she did not know her way to her quarters. This was not the Red Keep. This was a different castle and so it was built differently. As she walked through the castle, trying to find her way to her rooms and failing, she knew that there was an amused smirk on her uncle's lips and it was getting bigger as every minute passed.

Finally, she found a door that when opened, led to the outside. She took it and found herself to be in the courtyard. The moon was high in the sky, shining down light on an already fire-lit courtyard. She could hear the sounds of the feast coming from the castle. "I do not think that this is the way to your rooms," Lewyn said from behind her.

She turned and scowled at him. "I know that, nuncle. At least from here, I will be able to find my way back." They had come through the courtyard when they first arrived at Riverrun. As she started walking again, another sound emerged to her ears, the sound of a sword striking a target. "Do you hear that?"

"Aye, I do. It seems that some men are more concerned about their training then their feasting." There was the faintest hint of disapproval in his voice.

"You don't approve of someone taking their training to be a knight seriously, nuncle?"

"Training is important, aye. But so is feasting. What would be the point of doing all that laboring if one does not stop to enjoy himself?"

"In some cases, they would rather enjoy themselves then labor at all," she remarked. She had seen knights who had more fat then muscles at court. Both she and her uncle shared a laugh at the jape as they walked through the courtyard. "What do you think of the Starks, nuncle?"

"That most of them look like Tullys instead of Starks," he answered glibly.

"Well, I think the direwolves had put that suspicion to rest." Already her mind was going back to the bedside horror stories she used to love, about how the northerners were savage wolves in human form or how they were wargs who mated with animals. "Did you ever meet Lyanna Stark?" she asked suddenly.

She couldn't see his face so she did not know what expressions were crossing it at that moment. But she was curious about the woman who had started the whole rebellion to begin with. Some had called her a whore and some had called her innocent, but all agreed that she must've been beautiful to catch King Rhaegar's eye. Neither her father nor her mother ever said anything about, except to tell her and Aegon one warning.

Lewyn did not say anything for the longest time, letting only the sounds of the feast and the sword fill her ears. "Aye, I met her once at Harrenhal," he finally answered. "I didn't think anything of it. Perhaps I should've."

They walked in silence through the courtyard, letting the sounds of the feast fade into the background behind them. Yet, all the while, the sounds of training remained constant. The smoke from the torches burning in the courtyard filled the place. It was from that smoke a shape came out before her, making her jump back in fright. "By the gods!" she breathed as she stared at the creature. From behind her, she heard her uncle reach for his sword.

It was a direwolf but it was not like the direwolves she had seen in the hall. Those had furs whose colors went from grey to black and eyes which were either gold or green. The fur of this direwolf was white and its eyes were red with only black spots to show its pupils. It was just as big as the others and its eyes watched Rhaenys intently.

"Princess, get behind me," Lewyn told her. She wanted to move but she felt trapped by those eyes. If she moved, the wolf would not let her.

"Ghost, to me," a voice came from the smoky darkness. The direwolf stepped away and Rhaenys released the breath she had been holding. It was only then she realized that the sounds of the sword swinging had stopped.

Another shape came out of the smoke, rapidly becoming the shape of a man. When it became clear in the torchlight, Rhaenys felt like her heart had stopped and the world had changed. He was lean, that much she could tell, as well as that he had a long face. She was not sure whether his hair was black or brown in the dark night and she thought that his eyes were black. But when the moon came out from the clouds above and shined its light, she saw that his hair was dark brown and his eyes were as grey as the smoke. In one hand he held a sword while the other hovered over the direwolf, as if it was the only thing stopping it. From behind her, she thought she heard her uncle draw in a surprised breath. She did not know why, but she did know that the boy held a similar resemblance to the youngest Stark girl.

As he looked at her, she saw that his cheeks turned slightly pink and his eyes slid down just as slightly. It was only then she realized that he was a boy, practically the same age as Aegon. "My apologies if Ghost frightened you, my lady," he said quietly. "I had thought that we were alone."

"I-It is fine," she replied, cursing her voice for stuttering like that. She did not know this boy. She had no cause for sounding like a girl in love! "I am grateful that you were here, my lord."

"…I am not a lord."

"And she is no mere lady," Lewyn said with a harsh tone to his voice. "She is Princess Rhaenys Targaryen."

The boy winced at those words like he had been struck and bowed his head. "Forgive me, your Highness."

"There is nothing to forgive, raise your head," she told him and he did.

"Tell me, boy, when did become fashionable to train bare-chested?" her uncle asked him. For a moment, she did not understand what he meant. Then she saw that the tunic he wore was untucked and unbelted, like he had thrown it on moments before.

The pink on his cheeks became brighter at the question. "Tis warmer in the Riverlands then I am used to, ser," he answered. A gleam of sweat covered his face and plastered the tunic to his body that much was true.

"And where are you from then, if the Riverlands are warm to you?"

"The North," he answered.

"Name yourself, boy, you and your father," her uncle commanded.

He didn't look them in the eyes. "My name is Jon Snow. I am Lord Stark's bastard."

"Aye I thought so. You have the Stark look on you."

Those words made Rhaenys pause. Despite being considered a would-be traitor by many in the south, there were many more who considered of Lord Stark's unwavering sense of honor in the highest regards, except for two spots. One was her friend and was currently sitting in the hall. The other was standing before her and was doing things to her that she didn't want to happen but didn't stop them either way.

"If you are a part of the Starks, why are you not with them at the feast now?" she finally asked him.

"Lady Stark would not insult her family and the royal family by sitting a bastard among them."

To that, she laughed. "I was not aware that my father had legitimized my good friend Jocelyn to being a Stark." She knew he would've told her that and since he hadn't, that meant Jocelyn was still a Sand.

But he did not laugh with her and she found her laughter dying in the sight of his long face, guarded and solemn as it was. "With respect, your Highness," he said. "Jocelyn is a bastard daughter who could never threaten Robb's position as heir and whose mother is known to Lady Stark. I cannot claim either of those."

"Then why are you here in Riverrun?"

To that, he smiled. It was a small thing of his lips moving but when she saw it, Rhaenys found her breath taken from her. She found herself wanting to keep him smiling. "Robb and Arya had banded together and told their lady mother that they would not come unless I was brought along."

"Your Highness, you wished to retire for the evening," Lewyn reminded her from behind.

The smile vanished from Jon Snow's lips and he bowed his head. "I bid you good night, Princess." She did not say anything in return, forcing herself to give him a snort nod. He turned and walked away, the direwolf following behind him. Both she and her uncle kept on walking. The last she saw of him was him taking off the tunic, no doubt to continue training.

Her heart returned to normal and she could breathe easily again when he was no longer in sight. What had happened just then? She had meant many suitors and would-be lovers. Some she had considered, some she had rejected outright, and some were better off as friends (whether they liked it or not). But what happened to her in meeting that bastard was nothing like she had felt before. It was like she had not lived before seeing his face or hearing his voice (which sounded like a caress against her ear to her).

As she returned to her rooms and made herself ready for sleep, she remembered that warning her father and mother had told her and Aegon, something she had always thought was supposed to be a way to scare them at night into being good. How wrong she was!

" _Never meet a Stark under moonlight. They will take your heart away."_

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

Alright, this is going to be my attempt at doing a romantic story in true Asoiaf fashion, by which I mean I'm going to take an old and familiar notion, force it to its knees, and promptly screw it up the ass. I should also mention that this is also going to be a leisure project, so don't expect constant updates on this.

As you've probably already figured out, the outcome of the Rebellion has been changed. The way I've got it figured is that if the Stark forces were delayed long enough in joining the Rebellion coming down from the North, the Battle of the Bells (for that's when they actually joined the fighting) would've turned out much more differently.

If the northerners weren't coming down with their forces along with their lord coming to get married, Hoster Tully would probably be a little hesitant to commit his full forces to help Robert (needing some to protect his own lands from being attacked). So instead of dealing with Stark, Arryn, Baratheon, and Tully forces, Jon Connington now only had to deal with two. The rebel forces might've gotten out of there alive but not without a good deal of injury and that alone could've (pardon the pun) turned the tide at the Trident.

And since Ned didn't get down fast enough, there's a very good chance he might've continued the rebellion. But if you think about his one demand, it's only turnabout (and that's always fair play). Plus, it's a good thing for Viserys for I highly doubt he would go mad under Ned Stark's gaze.

I've read the story about Ashara and her supposedly still-born daughter and I've figured, "Why not? It'll be interesting to see how the dynamics change." I had considered making the six direwolves seven but discarded for being cliché. Plus, it'll add tension and everybody loves tension. If we didn't, this book series and TV show would not be famous.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 2: Mya

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

Her back was against the wall and her lips being kissed with a passion that went through her and down to her feet. But it was not something she wanted. "Aegon," she muffled through the kiss. She found his shoulders and pushed him off. "Aegon, stop, this is something that can't happen," she told the Crown Prince.

"I don't care," he said stubbornly. His face was scrunched in concentration. He was determined to keep kissing her.

"You're betrothed."

"I don't want Margaery Tyrell. I want you. I love you. You know that."

She did know. The night of the betrothal announcement, he had kissed her. It had been different than any way he had kissed her before. But she knew enough of the world that it couldn't be anything more than that. "I have to attend your sister," she told him. Before he could protest, she slipped from his grasp, something she had figured out how to do a long time ago, and quickly walked away from him. Not once she did see look back at him. She had made that mistake the first time. It was not one she repeated.

She found the room where the princess had commandeered to be the sewing room easily enough. When she opened the door to step in, the first thing she heard was, "Oh look, everyone! It's the Usurper's bastard!" come out of Tya Lannister, the eldest of Lady Cersei Lannister's children and who looked just like her mother. She sat amongst her own handmaidens. The whole room was like that, ladies from each kingdom watching one another.

"Now, Lady Tya, that is just rude. She does have a name," Margaery Tyrell said, only to turn her head to look at Mya. "I'm terribly sorry but I seem to have forgotten it. Who are you again?" she asked a well-placed look of embarrassment and confusion on her face. Beside her, her cousins started sniggering.

"It's Mya, my lady," she replied tonelessly. This wasn't the first time she did this.

"Mya, where were you?" the princess asked her. She sat near the center, with Daenerys beside her and her cousin close by.

"I apologize, Princess. I was held up." The look in her eyes showed that she knew what she had meant. "But I was able to get what you required." She held up a jug of Arbor gold for them all to see.

"Good. You may start pouring us drinks."

"Yes, your Highness." She walked slowly around the room, going to each and every one of the ladies in the room, even the other bastard. A small surge of anger rolled around in her stomach at the thought of it. Their fathers might have been close friends but she was considered to be two steps away from turning her cloak while Lady Sand had the favor of the princess. She squashed the anger down and poured her some of the wine.

"I would've thought that the Stark girls would've been here," Arianne mused from where she lounged on a divan, almost looking cat-like. "I didn't think Lady Stark would try to keep them from currying favor with the Iron Throne." She sent an amused look at her cousin at those words before looking at Jocelyn. "Where are the Starks, little rose?"

"No thank you, Mya," Princess Daenerys told her as she came close with the jug. The king's sister did not really drink and when she did, it would only be one or two cups.

"As you wish, Princess," she said, continuing on.

"Lady Stark would've sent her daughters here," Jocelyn told the others. "But they and the rest of her children insisted on taking their direwolves out around the castle, so they could take in all the new scents." Her hands tightened for a moment before relaxing again, a movement that they all saw but said nothing. "In any case, Sansa and Arya would probably think that this is an actual needlework session."

"Oh? Would that be so bad?" asked one of Tyrell's cousins.

She smiled. "Sansa would be all for it and Arya would do her best to get out of it. The little Underfoot would rather be around the Pack then ladies. I believe that they consider her to be an honorary member."

"Underfoot?" repeated Daenerys, a slightly puzzled look on her face.

"The Pack?" repeated Arianne with an equally puzzled look.

The bastard smiled. "We call Arya Underfoot because she is always underfoot somewhere in Winterfell. As for the Pack, it's a group of sons of bannermen sent to Winterfell to become friends with their future lord and Prince Viserys."

Lady Lannister sniggered into her cup. "What qualifies as sons of noblemen in the North?"

Anger flashed for a moment in Lady Sand's eyes. "There's Daryn Hornwood, Cley Cerwyn, Roderick Dustin, Domeric Bolton, Smalljon Umber, Jack Mormont, Roger Ryswell, Harrion Karstark, Torrhen Wull, Morgan Liddle, and Asher Forrester to name a few."

"I know none of those names, so they must not be so important. I suspect not, as they are nothing but savages who freeze in that cold hell they call a home," she said with a dismissive sniff.

"I could say the same about the lords of the Westerlands, since they're nothing but grubby and dirty miners who dig in the muds that they call home."

While Lannister sputtered in outrage, Martell grinned like an amused cat. "I think our little rose has taken on some winter coloring to her sandy petals," she remarked, earning a giggle from the Dornish ladies as well the ones from the Crownlands. "Tell us, Jocelyn, how was the North?"

"Cold," she answered. "There was always snow everywhere, even in the summer. When I first saw it, I thought winter had come when I was asleep. As it turns out, a Northern summer is as mild as a Dornish winter."

"And how do you find it now?" Daenerys asked.

"I still find it cold some days."

"That's your Dornish blood speaking," Arianne said with a proud smirk, like she had won a victory. "You are from the south after all."

"Aye, but I'm of the North too."

"Foreign on both sides, I say," Tya Lannister remarked nastily.

"No more foreign then the Reach or the Westerlands are to those who have never been there, my lady," Margaery said, coming to the bastard's defense.

"Humph!" she sniffed and drained her wine. She held out her cup. "Bastard, pour me another!"

Mya was given a subtle nod by her princess and stepped around the room to the Lannister side of it all. In silence she poured and in silence she stepped away when she was done. Lady Tya barely spared her a glance and yet, that was all she seemed to need. "So tell us, Lady Margaery, when is the wedding going to be?"

Mya didn't know why she felt the need to ask that question. They would get nothing out of her. But she saw the Rose of Highgarden's eyes flicked towards her and then back to the lion in the room. "Not any time soon, I can assure you. We have only been recently betrothed. We are still young."

"Still, your lord father will want you to marry soon."

"Yes, but probably not for a couple of moons."

 _WHAM!_

 _WHAM!_

The ladies there, with the exception of a few, jumped back in surprise. The door to the room rattled in place as it was pounded upon. "What in the seven hells?" one of the Reach ladies asked in a near panicked voice.

However, both Rhaenys and Daenerys were unconcerned. "Mya," the daughter of the king said.

She didn't anything else and Mya didn't need to hear anything else. She placed the jug on a nearby table before walking towards the door, idly tracing a finger over the bracer on her left arm. She opened the door and looked upon a face that would inspire nightmares. "Hound," she said in simple greeting.

"Bastard," he replied in that course voice of his, looking down at her with that ruined face, his mouth always twisted into a half-smile. He pushed the door and stepped in without another word to her. "Girl, your mother wants you."

"Thank you, Sandor," Daenerys said as she stood up from her seat and walked over to the door. She passed the man without any fear. The door closed with a loud _slam_!

"What in the seven hells was that!?" one of the ladies of the Riverlands demanded, her voice near hysterical and her wide eyes still staring at the door. "Was it a demon?"

"That was Queen Rhaella's and Princess Daenerys's sworn shield," Arianne said with an amused smirk, one that she shared with Tya. "I believe he's called the Hound."

"Actually, his name is Sandor of House Clegane," the Lannister of the two replied. "He's from the Westerlands."

"Why would the queen mother and the princess have a sworn shield when they have the Kingsguard?" one of the Reach ladies asked. "They don't need another knight."

"The Hound isn't a knight," Mya spoke, making everyone in the room turn their heads to her. "And he'll be insulted if you call him such."

"Yes, thank you, Mya," Princess Rhaenys said. She didn't say anything else, understanding the princess was telling her to shut her mouth.

"How about we turn our attention away from that ugly person and turn our attention to a far more interesting subject?" the Princess of Dorne suggested with a naughty smirk on her lips.

"Like what?" one of the Tyrell cousins' asked, an innocent expression on her lips.

"The handsome men who have attended this tourney," she said with a mischievous smirk. "There are an abundance of them here. I saw one such man covered in such lovely muscles and tall too! I thought he might've been a giant."

Lady Lannister frowned at those words. "The Mountain isn't here at this tourney," she remarked. Mya knew enough about Ser Gregor Clegane that she was glad to hear those words. As course and rude as he was, she preferred the Hound to the Mountain that rides.

"It might've been Smalljon Umber," Jocelyn offered. "Did he have a sigil of a screaming giant anywhere on him?"

"I do not know, I did not look," she replied.

"Smalljon?" one of the Dornish ladies asked. "Who is he small to?"

"His father, the Greatjon," the bastard lady answered. "He's over seven feet tall."

"By the Seven," a good number of the ladies there said in awe.

"A brute from the North is nothing really to look at, except for the first time," one of the Crownlands' ladies said. "But the Knight of Flowers is here. He's such a handsome man!" She practically swooned at that, making Mya rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'd say that Ser Daemon Sand is far more handsome," one of the Dornish said in defense.

"A bastard is more handsome then the Knight of Flowers?" a Tyrell said with a scoff. "You must be joking."

"Of course she is joking and you are too," Tya said scornfully. "Everyone knows that my uncle is the best man here."

"Which one?" asked a Riverlands' lady, put off by her arrogant attitude. "Would it be the Imp or the Kingslayer?" Laughter abounded as the face of lady Lannister turned as red as her sigil.

"I know that he is no knight like my other brothers, but I do know that Willas is handsome too," Margaery said, choosing to speak of her eldest brother instead of the favored one (of which the Tyrells made attempt to hide but could not), which said something of her character. Having met her eldest brother, Mya knew she spoke true. She also knew that Willas was kind and could poke gentle fun at his own injury (yet it was not without its own sadness).

But one of the Westerlands ladies, a Lannister of Lannisport, scoffed at that. "Handsome or not, he's a cripple. He'd be nothing if he wasn't the heir."

It also said something of their character when both Margaery and Arianne leapt to their feet and turned furious eyes onto the Lannister of Lannisport. The Reach and Dorne united in common cause. The princess had also stood up from her chair as well, her eyes burning hot like the dragon her family claimed to be blood of. But if the princess did something stupid, it would reflect poorly on her.

But they already thought of Mya as a usurper's bastard, what did she have to worry about? She marched over to the lady's side and placed a very firm grip on her shoulder. "Take back that statement or get out," she said to the noblewoman.

"What?" she squawked in reply, "how dare you lay your hands on me, bastard?"

"Take back that statement or get out," she repeated herself.

The lady looked at Tya, who did not look back. "Let me go!" she decided to yowl instead.

" _Out it is, then."_ She forced the lady up to her feet, all but dragged her to the door, opening it and then shoving her out.

She knew the stares would be there as she turned around. But her eyes were on the princess. Rhaenys did nothing and said nothing to her. It was Arianne who did. "Why would you do something like that?"

"Somebody was going to have to do it," she replied simply, walking back to where she stood before. "It might as well have been me."

"Yes, after all, she is a bastard and a usurper's bastard at that," Tya remarked into her cup. No one said a word to that.

"I just had the most wonderful idea to make this tourney much more interesting for us ladies," Arianne said with a wicked little smile.

"What is it?" Jocelyn asked her.

"How about we play the Woman's game?"

"The Woman's game?" repeated of the Riverlands ladies, possibly a Blackwood. "What is that? I've never heard of it."

"Oh, it's a great game played in the south," she said with a light laugh. "Think of it as the chance to crown a man here as our Queen of Love and Beauty, or in his case, King of Valor and Chivalry."

"How is it played?" A Westerlands lady asked, leaning forward with interest.

"Among us ladies here, we choose a man from the people who have come," Margaery told her. "And then we all try to win that man's favor. At the end of the tourney, who he chooses wins."

"But what if he doesn't win the tourney?"

To that, the ladies of the Deep South laughed. "It would not matter," Arianne told her. "All that would matter is if he chose you or not."

"Oh," she said understandingly. "So who do we choose?"

"How about your brother, Princess Arianne?" suggested Margaery with a smile that all but shined. "I'm sure he would not mind."

"You would have me step out of the game after suggesting it?" the Dornish Princess asked with a feigned look of shock. "How devious of you, my lady," she said to the Rose of Highgarden. But then the look faded. "Besides, Quentyn is not exactly on the best terms with us right now after coming back from Yronwood."

"What happened?" Jocelyn asked her.

"He made a comment that was completely uncalled for. It's nothing," she said with a wave of her hand. "Now, does anyone have any suggestions?"

"Why not the Knight of Flowers?" suggested Tya.

That had some people agreeing; some, but not all. "I don't see anything with wrong with Ser Harry from the Vale," said another lady, probably from the Vale itself.

"He's not a ser, he's just a squire," a Frey (the Seven only knows which one. There were already far too many) said with a disdainful sniff. "And not even a good one at that."

"And who would you suggest? One of your family members?" she replied.

"Why shouldn't I?" asked the Frey challengingly.

"Because it's a game we wish to play," Arianne said with a smirk. While the Frey girl spluttered, she turned to look at her royal cousin. "How about you, coz?" she asked. "Who do you think we should play for?"

"Well…there's always Ser Daemon Sand," Princess Rhaenys offered weakly. It seemed like she wasn't really interested in the game.

"Come now, coz. If you had to pick a man, who would it be?"

"Certainly not any of the ones you all suggested," she said with no weakness in her voice, looking at the entire room. "Every time I have played the game, they, along with many knights from the southern kingdoms, have been named over and over again. It gets boring after a while. We need to choose someone new, someone who's never played the game before."

"Ooh," said Arianne with a knowing smirk. "Some Northern lord has caught your eye, has he? You think we should play for him, is that it?"

"Robb Stark is certainly handsome, he looks just like his uncle Edmure," Margaery said, making her cousins giggle. "Although Theon Greyjoy isn't too bad to look at either," she added as an afterthought.

" _If I had said that, they would've looked at me like I was mad,"_ Mya thought to herself. However, since the Rose of Highgarden said it, the others all nodded and agreed. It was like they had forgotten the rebellion Lord Greyjoy rose up in.

"I do say that there was one such man among the northern group who was quite handsome," a Bracken lady remarked. "He was pale of skin but it was lovely. And his eyes were like two full moons staring back at me. I never did get his name."

"That's probably Domeric Bolton," Jocelyn told her. "He, Jack Mormont, and Asher Forrester are usually thick as thieves in the Pack, yet you never would've thought it at first glance."

"Why's that?" one of the Fowler twins asked, only for her to smile mysteriously.

"Well, coz?" Arianne asked Rhaenys. "Have the men named caught your attention?"

"Actually, coz, I already had someone in mind," she replied.

"Who would it be?" asked Jocelyn.

"Your cousin," she answered.

That mysterious smirk was still on her face. "Good choice. I'm sure that Robb will like all the ladies here showing their affection and trying to win his favor. It might make some of the other men jealous." The entire room filled with giggling at the thought.

"I wasn't talking about Robb Stark."

The smirk vanished and was replaced with a look of concern. "Rhaenys, Bran and Rickon are practically babes compared to you. Tell me you're not considering robbing the cradle for the game."

"I'm not," she said, "for I wasn't thinking of them either."

"Then who…?" Her voice fell silent but her eyes grew wide. "You cannot be serious."

"I am."

"Out of every lord who's come south, you want us to play for him?"

"Why shouldn't we?" she asked her friend, watching her carefully. "Give me a good reason we shouldn't." Jocelyn Sand opened her mouth but no words came out. As this went on, a satisfied and smug expression appeared on the princess's face. "You can't think of one, can you? Not without making yourself sound like a hypocrite."

"Who are you talking about?" Tya asked.

"My bastard brother, Jon Snow," answered Jocelyn.

All eyes turned to the princess. "A bastard?" said Lady Lannister. "You would have us play for a bastard?"

She turned her gaze to her. "Aside from his being a bastard, what exactly is wrong with him? Have you even met him?"

"No, of course not," she said with a dismissive sniff.

"I have, last night outside in the courtyard. If I had not seen Robb Stark entered and introduced, I would've thought that Jon Snow was Eddard Stark's trueborn son."

"So he was handsome?" Arianne asked. Mya saw the interested gleam in her eyes.

"Yes, he was. I also think he was not aware of it." Her eyes found every lady in the room. "Do not be put off by his status. Think of it as a challenge instead. It would not be the same as trying to win the affection and favor of a southern knight, would it?"

They all began to make sounds of knowing acknowledgement. "You're right, your Highness. It would be different," one of the Tyrells said in acknowledgement. "He probably wouldn't think it would happen to him."

"True. And I personally think he would be flattered and honored," Tya added. "A bastard such as himself would never have such highborn ladies pay attention to him."

"So we are in agreement," the princess declared. "We shall play for Lord Stark's son. Let the best of us win." She raised her goblet in a drinking salute, only to stop when she saw what was left. Still, she drank it with the others. "Mya, we need more wine."

"The jug is empty, your Highness," Mya replied. She had been pouring every time one of the ladies had raised a cup.

"Then go get more. The same kind as before," she added as an afterthought.

"Yes, your Highness." She left the room without another word. The empty jug was in her hand as she walked back through the halls. It was a good thing she knew the way from their room to the kitchens, otherwise she might end up getting lost. That leads to her wasting time and the princess doesn't really like that.

It was an easy trip, most likely ten to fifteen minutes. That is until she heard "Mya!" heard the sound of feet running, and felt a sudden weight around her middle. She looked down and saw black hair and blue eyes just like hers but with big ears (courtesy of her mother's house). She smiled. "Hello, Shireen."

Her cousin smiled back as she looked up at her. "Have you seen the castle?" she asked.

"Not much. I've been busy." While she loved her little cousin, her duties were more prominent.

"Shireen," the hard voice of her uncle spoke, making both of them come still. Shireen stepped away and they both looked at Lord Stannis standing before them. He was tall, his blue eyes hard, and his black hair thinning on the top of his head. His wife was nowhere in sight, only his right hand man, Ser Davos Seaworth.

She curtsied to him. "Lord Baratheon," she greeted him. As she stood back up, she tried to hide the wine jug behind her so that he wouldn't see it.

He didn't say anything in way of greeting to her but he did see the movement of her arm. "What is that you're holding?" he asked his voice sharp and quick.

She flinched and brought it out for him to see. "It's a wine jug," she answered. "I am following my princess's commands."

He didn't say anything, he only stared at her. His gaze was so intent that she could not keep it. Her eyes fell to the floor, seeing it along with her feet and the jug. "Where is Renly?" he asked her.

"I do not know, my lord. I have not seen him." That was a partial lie as she had only seen her other uncle with the Tyrells earlier that day. But other than that, she had not seen him.

"…Go about your duties."

"Yes, my lord."

"Goodbye, Mya," Shireen said as she followed her father. Her bastard cousin watched in silence as they left.

It was only when Lord Stannis was out of sight that she breathed again. It had been like that ever since they had first met. She had not been aware of her father when she was in the Eyrie. That had only been discovered when the royal family had come to visit and the king came across her. He brought her to the capital to be the personal servant to his daughter. Why, she did not know and she had never asked.

It was in the capital that she had met the rest of House Baratheon and it was Lord Stannis who she had met first. His scrutinizing gaze was one she could remember with perfect clarity. What did he look for when he looked at her like that? Was he trying to find his brother, her father, in her? She did have a temper, but she had learned to control it (she had to, after spending so many years in the capital).

She kept on walking through the halls, ignoring the looks from servants and handmaidens who knew her and their whispering.

"Bastard."

"Usurper's child."

"Blood traitor."

She had heard them all and her skin was thick. She never would've thought that advice from a Lannister would be helpful but the Imp's words had proven true time and time again. She was a bastard. That was her armor. She wore it as she went down to the kitchen, but she knew that there chinks in it. Three were known to her: Aegon (she did not love him the way he did her but she did not want see to him hurt), her uncles and their family (they were her blood, try as some of them might not like it), and the Tyrells (specifically, one Tryell).

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

Before you get your hopes up, Robert only had Mya before in he died. So that means no Gendry and no Gendarya. For those of you who were hoping for that to happen, oh well.

I've read my fair share of stories (both real and on Fanfiction) where the men characters play a game to seduce the main girl character and make her fall in love with one of them (and perhaps taking it one step further). Some had bad outcomes but most were the outcome you'd expect. But it was always the guys on the girl, not the other way around. So this is going to be my attempt at doing that.

If you look at the map of Westeros, you can kind of split it into three areas. Dorne, the Reach, the Stormlands, and the Crownlands are the Deep South, the Westerlands, the Iron Islands, the Riverlands, and the Vale are the Upper South, and the North is…well, that's obvious. With a Dornish influence at court (a Martell as queen, there's going to be a Dornish influence), something like the Woman's game would be played more often than not. And while the younger Upper South ladies might not have heard of such a game, they'd be interested in playing it.

Think of Tya Lannister as the female version of Joffrey, albeit without the incest. Let's face it, since Rhaegar wasn't going to marry Cersei and told her father right to his face, there was no reason for Tywin to keep her around in King's Landing. So he took her back to the Rock and away from Jaime. I'll get to her father eventually.

And now you see the fullness of the title. It's not just a Targaryen wanting a Stark; it's a Targaryen wanting a Baratheon as well. It's the same scenario but a different situation. But as I said before, this is not going to be a typical romance story. Mya isn't going to be the girl who loves above her station, marries the prince, becomes the queen, and lives happily ever after. She knows her place and she knows that what Aegon wants is never going to happen.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 3: Willas

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

" _Fascinating,"_ Willas thought to himself as he watched the direwolves followed their masters about down in the courtyard. There was something truly fascinating watching them move. It was with an inherent grace that none of the dogs he had trained and bred had. That did not mean they were all tamed. He knew that the youngest son's and daughter's direwolves were just as wild as their masters. Having seen the youngest Stark run across the courtyard with the black direwolf following made him laugh.

As the wolves passed, he stepped out into the light, leaning on his cane. He watched as Robb Stark and his sister Sansa continued to walk on. They both had their mother's coloring. He knew that Lady Sansa was already pretty and would become beautiful as she grew up, like a flower blooming. He had heard his father talking about making a marriage proposal for him to the Starks, most likely to their eldest daughter.

While he could admit that Sansa was pretty, she was also too young for him. She needed someone who was closer to her own age and someone who can move without the need of a cane. If his father tried to make it official, he would refuse. She would need a knight from the songs (Loras might've been a good suggestion, if it wasn't for his…attitude), not an old cripple.

"Are you feeling sorry for yourself again, boy?" his grandmother asked him as she hobbled to his side and giving him an eyeful. A serving girl stood behind, obviously there to help her in any way she could.

"No, Grandmother, I am not. I was just admiring the direwolves of the Starks."

"Hmph, you're amazed by a bunch of overgrown dogs." The way she spoke made it sound like what he had done was stupid and childish.

But he was used to it, as it was her way. "Yes, I am."

"I guess that it is to be expected, since you decided to devote yourself to dogs and hawks."

"And reading and learning how to rule the Reach," he added. "Please don't forget those, Grandmother."

She rapped his cane with her own. "Don't be smart with me, Willas."

"Yes, Grandmother," he replied. He had been taught by her and he was her best student. His father might've cowered and behaved like a child in regards to her chastisements, but he would not.

"Good. Now walk with me." She turned around and started hobbling down the corridor. He followed along with the serving girl. It was clear that the girl could easily outpace them but stayed behind all the same. They walked in silence until the corridor had no more open windows to the courtyard. "Tell me, does Margaery still insist on tormenting the bastard?"

"She has a name, Grandmother."

"I am well aware of my granddaughter's name. I was there when she came screaming into this world."

"And can you remember the bastard's name?"

"Why? Should I?"

"She is not just a bastard. She does have a name, it's Mya."

"Yes, yes, of course it is. Now tell me, is Margaery still tormenting her?"

"Yes." He saw the look on her face at that answer. "You approve."

"She is reminding her of her place without being cruel or obvious about it."

"It is unnecessary."

"And how would you know that, dear boy? Did the bastard come to you and tell you that?"

"Yes, she did." She had come to him mere days after the betrothal had been announced to tell him what his sister was doing. At first he had thought nothing of it, thinking that she was just another girl in love with the prince. But her manner and her words made him think otherwise and after watching interact with his sister changed it completely.

"Why did she go to you instead of my son or me?"

"I asked her the same question. She said that Father was an idiot and you were probably deaf on your way to dead."

"Hmph, she does not do herself any good acting like that."

"Grandmother, she told me that she does not love Prince Aegon and that Margaery was happy to have him. She only asked me to stop my sister from doing something so pointless."

"Oh, she told you that, did she?"

"…Not exactly, no." Her words were a lot shorter and to the point.

"And what did you do about it?"

"Nothing, unfortunately," he answered. "Princess Rhaenys came by looking for her. She had no choice but to follow."

"Smart girl," his grandmother said. "She knows her place."

"Grandmother, I didn't think anything of it before then. But now I can't help but see it every time Margaery and Mya are together. What's happening is unnecessary."

"What's happening is necessary. If Margaery cannot handle one bastard girl, what will her future as queen look like?"

"Grandmother, are you not listening to me? Mya doesn't want to have Prince Aegon."

"Oh, so it's Mya now? I think you're getting too familiar with the girl, Willas."

He was beginning to get frustrated but that would not do anything for him. He had to stay calm in the face of his grandmother's words. "Have you ever talked to her?"

"That bastard?" she asked. "Why should I? She has never come to me and I have better things to take care of then one little girl's problem."

"If she does come to you, I beg you to listen to what she has to say before dismissing her."

She snorted and rolled her eyes but said, "Very well, Willas. I will indulge you on that."

"Thank you."

They passed a trio of ladies who giggled with one another, only to fall silent when they saw him. Their silence lasted while in sight of him but once he was sure that they were gone, he could hear them start giggling again. "Foolish chits," his grandmother remarked. 'They believe themselves to so clever to hide the Woman's game from any others." She looked at him. "So, have you figured out who they're playing for this time around?"

She asked him that every time the game was played at a tourney. He always found out but now, it proved to be a little more difficult. "I am not sure. I have heard some ladies say that the man being played for is Ser Daemon Sand."

"Would those ladies happen to be Dornish?" she asked. "Most likely, those snakes never did like outsiders. Well, who else is involved? Have they finally chosen you?

"No." That much he did know. Loras was more likely to be chosen then him. It was a bitter old feeling that he never quite got over.

"You're not feeling bitter about it again, are you boy?"

"No, Grandmother." It was an old feeling and while it was still there, he could keep it quiet and locked away.

"Good, it does not help to gnaw on old wounds. Do you know who the other man is?"

He shook his head. "I only know that it is not one of the regularly chosen people."

"Might add a bit of flavor to the game, finally," she said, mostly to herself. She looked over at the girl behind them, asking her, "What about you, girl? Are you going to be playing this game?"

"No, my lady," she said. "I have a husband and a babe in swaddling."

"Hmm, it's rare to see such a woman at your age married. They just seem to be getting younger every time."

"Or perhaps you're just getting older, Grandmother?" Willas asked her with a slight grin.

She turned her head to him like a whip cracking. "Don't start mocking me, Willas. Just because I didn't use it enough on your father doesn't mean I don't know how to use a cane." Even though she said those words, he knew that there was no real venom behind them. "I am hungry," she suddenly declared, turning right to go down another corridor. "Girl, entertain my grandson."

She vanished from sight, leaving them alone together. "My lord," the girl said with a bowed head and a nervous tone in her voice.

Whatever she was thinking, he would not do it. "My lady, you have already said that you have a husband and a babe. You have nothing to fear from me. Although, if you were to run, I would hardly be able to catch you," he said with a slight humor in his voice, tapping his cane against the floor.

She did not say anything to that. "Will you go any somewhere, sir?"

"Summer, wait!" they both heard a boy's voice call out. Moments later, another direwolf appeared before Willas. Following behind him was a boy who had the coloring of a Tully. His eyes widened at the sight of them. "Oh, my apologies, my lord, my lady," he said, clearly embarrassed.

"I'm not a lady," the serving girl told him.

Willas just waved his hand assuredly. "There was no harm done, Brandon Stark."

He frowned. "How do you who I am?"

"I was there at the feast and I remembered which direwolf went to whom."

Another woman came striding up behind him. "Your direwolf find what it was looking for, little lord?" she asked in a rough informal voice. She was tall as Willas with a hard face and brown hair that looked it had never been cut before. He saw scars on her hands and wondered if she had been abused.

"No, I don't think he did. I don't even know what it was he was looking for," the young Stark said, frowning at a thought. Then he looked at Willas, saw the flower brooch holding his cape up, saw his cane rest in his hand, and widened his eyes. "Lord Tyrell," he said in greeting.

"Lord Stark," Willas replied, giving courtesy a turn.

"You know this kneeler do you, little lord?" the woman asked the Stark, looking quite unimpressed.

"Osha, this is Lord Willas Tryell, the heir to Highgarden."

"It is a pleasure. And you are, my lady?" he asked.

She laughed and then spat out some phlegm onto the stone. "Ain't no lady, kneeler," she told him. "I was one of the free folk and a spearwife too, until the little lord's brother captured me and took me in chains to Winterfell."

" _By the gods, an actual wilding,"_ Willas thought to himself. If she was what she said she was, it would explain the scars on her hands. No doubt they were from some battle. "If you were captured, why are you still not in chains?"

She grinned. "I earned their trust."

"Let's go to the godswood, Osha," Brandon said to her. His direwolf seemed to agree with the idea as it began to move in place, waiting for the command to go.

"Might we accompany you?" Willas asked.

"Got the prettiest manners, don't he?" Osha remarked out loud. "Follow the old gods, do you?"

"I do not, but I would like to see it all the same."

"I'd be honored if you joined me, Lord Willas," Brandon told him, remembering his courtesies.

"Thank you, Brandon."

"Call me Bran."

He smiled at the innocence of the boy. "Very well, lead the way, Bran."

They made quite the group walking through the corridors of Riverrun: the northern boy and his direwolf, the wilding, the man from the Reach, and a serving girl. No doubt they garnered looks from smallfolk and nobles alike, especially with the direwolf in tow.

The creature fascinated him. There was power and strength in every step it took, its keen eyes seemed to miss not a thing, and by the way its tail was wagging slowly back-and-forth, it was content. "Your pardon, young Bran, but where did you find such a magnificent creature?" he asked the Stark.

The boy was subdued as he answered. "My brothers found a dead direwolf. She had whelped pups before she died. My lord father had debated whether it would've been more merciful to kill the pups then, even when Robb and I protested. Then Jon stepped in and pointed out to Father that there three boy pups and two girl pups, just like had three trueborn sons and two trueborn daughters. Father relented after that."

"And what happened to the mother?" he asked as they came upon the entrance to the godswood.

"I…don't know. We never spoke of her afterwards." He fell silent as they started walking on the grass.

The godswood was a place of light and sounds, with bird singing in the air and a small stream gurgling along. It was a pleasant mixture that was soothing to his ear. Yet when he looked at the Stark beside him, the boy looked discomforted. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing," Bran replied.

"Let's go find the gods, little lord," Osha said to him. "Perhaps that will ease you."

"Is something the matter?" the serving girl asked.

"He's used to a different kind of godswood," she said shortly. "Come on, keep it moving." They continued to walk until the weirwood tree came into sight. But there were already people there, two people, standing before the sad face on the heart tree.

"Is that Jon?" Bran asked as he watched the man talk to a lady. "Who's he with?"

Willas didn't know who the man was but he did know who the lady was. "That is Lady Tya Lannister, Lady Cersei's daughter."

"What are they say?"

"I do not know."

He was about to walk in open sight when Osha grabbed hold of him and pulled him back. "You might want to wait on that, little lord," she told him, a knowing smirk on her lips.

"Why?" he asked. She didn't answer him.

Willas was more focused on what the northern boy and the southern lady were talking about. "…plan on joining the tournament, my lord?" he heard Lady Tya ask.

"I'm not a lord, my lady," the boy Bran had called Jon replied. "I'm a bastard."

"Then perhaps I shall call you Lord Snow. You are the son of a lord, are you not?"

"…Aye, I am."

"Then Lord Snow you shall be," she said with a little laugh, like it was a game. Willas could see on the boy's face that he was uncomfortable with the title. "But come now, you still haven't told me if you plan to join the tournament. I would be most cross with you if you did and you did not at least try to ask for my favor."

"My lady, I think you have confused for someone else," he tried telling her.

" _What is he thinking?"_ Willas wondered. A young lady acting like that to him? Most young men he knew would fight each other for such a chance. Then he realized what was going on. Jon Snow must be the one they are all playing for. _"The boy is going to be eaten alive by them all."_

But she only laughed. "Of course not," she told him. "I have never confused who I—"

"Lady Lannister!" Prince Viserys called out as he and Theon Greyjoy came out from behind a nearby tree.

They both turned to look at who was coming their way. "Your Highness," she said with a graceful curtesy.

Both direwolf and boy decided to join everyone in that moment, leaving Willas alone with a wilding and serving girl. "Shall we?" he asked them both. Osha snorted and walked out.

"Bran, what are you doing here?" Jon asked, seeing him follow his wolf.

Lady Tya saw the number of people coming before the heart tree. "I shall take my leave of you, Lord Snow," she said to the bastard before leaving them all.

"Lord Snow?" repeated Prince Viserys as he looked at Jon.

"She said it, your Highness," he replied quietly. He didn't meet the prince's eyes.

"That must make you feel good, huh, Snow?" Greyjoy said with a smirk. "Having a woman like that all over you? I was beginning to think that they just didn't like you."

"Shut up, Greyjoy," he muttered.

"Prince Viserys, my apologies for barging in like this," Willas said to the prince with a bow.

"There is nothing to apologize for," he said in reply. "Osha, how are you?"

The wilding snorted. "I've been watching the little lord as instructed. What else would I be doing?"

He just laughed at that. "Indeed you are and we thank you for it. And who is this lovely maiden beside you?" he asked, turning his eyes to the serving girl.

"Yara, milord," she answered, bowing her head slightly.

"A pleasure," he replied. "She's is a pretty one, wouldn't you say, Theon?" he asked the Greyjoy standing beside him. But he didn't get a reply. "Theon?" he asked, turning his head to look at him.

Everyone did the same, even the direwolves somehow. Theon was staring at the serving girl, his eyes wide with shock or surprise. His mouth was moving but no words were coming out of them. "What are you doing here?" he finally managed to say, his voice rising at the end of it.

The girl raised her head but now there was something different about her. "Is that any way to speak to me, Theon?" she asked him, her voice completely different from the servile tone she had before. It was rich and commanding, with a lazy smirk on her lips. Her posture changed too. She held herself like a man with a confidence that spoke of experience.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded again, his voice rising higher.

"I was invited, same as you. Of course, I came by myself while you came with your green land family."

"Theon, you know this woman?" Prince Viserys asked him.

"Aye, she's my sister, Asha."

Willas was the first to turn to her. Now that he knew that they were related, he could see the similarities. They had the same dark hair and the same shape of the eyes. But she had confidence while he had cockiness. There laid the difference between them. "My lady, my apologies," he said to her.

She laughed. "I am a captain, Greenlander. You'd best remember that." She looked at her brother with a disdainful eye. "You've become a soft little Greenlander yourself, Theon. Do you enjoy wearing their dresses and drinking their weak ale?" He didn't answer and she just laughed. Then she turned to look at Willas. Her eyes found the cane. "Pretty little thing there. Maybe I'll take it for my own. Maybe I'll take the old woman's too. She wouldn't notice, would she?"

"My lady, that is my grandmother you are speaking of," he told her.

"Are you going to defend her like a knight?" She tapped his cane with her foot, hard enough to make it move and him to stumble slightly. She laughed again as he regain his foot. The direwolf of Bran Stark's began to growl, echoing in the godswood. She looked at it and then at Bran. "Control your mutt or I'll be wearing a cloak soon."

Both Bran and his bastard brother were angry, letting it show on their faces. She laughed and walked away, a swagger in her walk. They all watched disappear into the godswood without saying anything. When she was finally gone, it was the wilding who spoke. "I like her. She just might make an antique Free Folk."

"She's practically a wilding already, Osha," Prince Viserys said, his eyes faint with distrust.

"Still a kneeler," she replied.

But Willas still looked the way she left. She had been fascinating. A woman captain, he had never heard of something like that. He resolved to meet her again.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

Willas is an interesting character. All we've got about him is from second-hand sources. I personally believe that he is what people about him but also a little bitter and self-deprecating about what happened to him.

But he's also the heir to the Reach so even if he's not a knight, he would be the epitome of chivalry and shrewd as well, due to his grandmother's doing. It will be interesting to see how that clashes against Asha's swagger and crassness, along with her strength.

And yeah, this story isn't going to be just about Jon, Rhaenys, and Aegon. There will be other characters. Probably not as many romantic ones but I'm going to do what I can. One idea I have is for Arya managing to squire under Brienne and the two of them get along with Asha, see where that goes.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 4: Jon

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Godswood)

He heard giggling at first and when he opened his eyes, he saw a trio of ladies staring at him. They were at a distance that was a little less than respectful. He quickly scrambled to his feet. "My ladies," he said to them, bowing his head. Ghost was by his side, which was probably why they did not get any closer.

They stared at him and he remembered that he was only wearing a tunic over his pants. He must've been incredibly underdressed. "My apologies," he told them.

"For what?" the one of the right asked him. Her dress had a red stallion prancing on the hem, telling him that she was of House Bracken.

Did she not see him? "My state of dress," he explained.

She looked him up and down slowly. "We don't mind, Lord Snow. We don't mind."

He could feel the blood rush into his cheeks. "Your pardon," he said to them all before quickly leaving. He hurried for the exit of the godswood, Ghost trotting alongside him. He knew that the wolf showed nothing on his face but he had a feeling that he was amused by what he had seen happened.

He got out of the godswood and back into the castle proper before running into Robb and Theon. "Jon, where have you been?" Robb asked him.

"I was sleeping the godswood. I found the rooms to be hot," he answered truthfully.

"I didn't know you'd become a hedge knight. You'd better not let Jack or Asher find out about it. Otherwise they'll tease you for turning to the Faith." There was a smile on his lips even has he japed.

"I'll be sure to avoid them for the time being," he said with a small smile on his lips. But when he turned his attention to Theon, the smile faded a little.

"You got something to say, bastard?" Theon snarled at him.

"No." He knew enough of Greyjoy to know not to say anything.

But it wasn't enough. Theon gave him a hard shove as he walked away. He fell to the ground, hissing in pain as he did. When he looked up, Greyjoy was walking away fast. Robb offered him a hand. "What was that about?" he asked.

Jon took the hand and got back to his feet. "He didn't tell you?" He and Theon were the closest of companions in the Pack.

He shook his head. "No."

"…Then it's not my place to tell you." He could imagine how meeting his sister like that after all these must've been like for Theon, as much as he dislikes him. "Where are they serving food?"

"In the great hall, but…" He trailed off, looking uncomfortable. "Mother is eating with her brother and father. Arya, Bran, and Rickon are with her."

Jon felt Ghost's weight against his side. "I understand. Perhaps I can find some food from the kitchen."

"Jon, you can go into the great hall. I can go with you."

He shook his head. "No, this is your lady mother's home. I will try to stay out of her way while we're here." He looked around the room they were in. It had the door to the courtyard behind him and three corridors leading into the castle. He didn't know Riverrun, so he would have to take a guess.

When he started going to the left, he felt Ghost leave his side. Lord Tully was nervous about having the wolves in the castle. Jon had been told that he hadn't said anything about it but he was not going to risk it. He had taught Ghost to go to the godswood whenever he went into the castle. He would be safe there.

It didn't take him long to figure out that he was lost. The corridors all looked the same to him and he had lost count of how many turns he had taken. Now he stood in a corridor that was lit by the light through the windows. In front of him it split off into two ways, one going left and one going right.

" _Which way?"_ he asked. He already lost an hour trying to find the kitchen with no luck. He heard footsteps behind him. He turned and saw a lady coming his way. In her hands were trays full with food. It looked like she would not be able to hold them both for long. "Do you need help, my lady?" he asked her, going to her side.

"Yes, thank you," she replied. He took the tray in her left hand, feeling the weight of the food on it. He was also able to see her. She had short hair black as a raven and eyes blue as water. She was quite pretty, even if her face was held in such seriousness.

"Where are you taking these trays?" he asked himself, reminding himself to speak.

"This is the prince's and the princess's breakfast." She said it like it was nothing and yet the tray in his hands felt heavier. Ever since he had met the Princess Rhaenys the night of the feast, she hadn't completely left his mind.

"Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys?" he asked.

"No, Aegon and Rhaenys," she answered. "Come on." She started walking down the corridor, taking the one to the right. He followed her.

As they walked through the castle, he followed her lead. "Do you know the prince and the princess, my lady?" he asked her.

"I'm not a lady," she said shortly, still walking forward.

"You're not? But you are dressed like a lady." She was dressed in a dress of black that was finely made.

"I'm not a lady. This is something the princess used to wear."

"If you're not a lady, then what are you?"

In a corridor that overlooked a garden, she came to a stop and faced him. "Your pardon, my lord, I did not know you hadn't recognized me. My name is Mya Stone. I am the bastard daughter of Robert Baratheon."

He too came to a stop and stared at her. She was the child of the Usurper. But more than that, she was a bastard like he was. "Your pardon," he said to her. "But you mistake me, my…you mistake me," he said again, stopping before he had finished. "I am not a lord."

She looked at him for the longest time. "Then what are you?"

"The bastard son of Lord Stark, Jon Snow," he answered honestly.

She kept looking at him but with something else in her eyes. Finally, she said, "So here we stand, bastards of traitors, carrying food for the royal family."

"Mya!" a voice called out from the garden below. They looked down and saw the prince and princess in the garden, obviously waiting.

"Come on," Mya told him. She led him down a nearby stairwell that led out to the garden itself.

As she walked out, he held back, hiding somewhat in the shadows. "What took you so long, Mya?" the princess asked her. She laid against a tree while her brother just sat on the ground, shaded by the tree's leaves. Between them standing against the nearby wall was one of the Kingsguard.

"This is a different castle, your Highness," Mya said as she placed the tray on the grass between them. She stood up and looked back at him. She gave him a look and her eyes told him of her impatience.

He swallowed a gulp of air and stepped out into the garden. The princess went still at the sight of him and he forced himself to keep walking, setting the second tray beside the first. "Your Royal Highnesses," he said to them both with a bowed head. He stood back up, feeling underdressed once more. "If you would pardon me, I will leave. I mean to find the kitchens." His stomach kept reminding him that he was hungry.

But when he turned to leave, the princess spoke. "Please stay. Share this meal with us."

He turned back to look at her in surprise. He was a bastard, she was a princess. They shouldn't even be talking to one another, much less eating breakfast together. "Your Highness," he started.

"I insist."

He couldn't leave, not now. She had asked him to eat with them. If he refused, it would be rude. He sat down, trying to keep himself from looking right at her. "Mya, you too, sit," the prince commanded.

He looked at her and saw that she was looking at the princess. Princess Rhaenys didn't say anything but she did sit down, making the prince smile. The silence hung in the air as they all sat there. The prince and princess were relaxed but he was nervous. "Let us eat," Princess Rhaenys declared.

Jon stared at the trays. He had eaten at his father's table before. He had eaten good food before. Yet what lay on the trays seemed to make the ones in Winterfell meager. There were meats and fruits he could not put names to. They looked delicious to eat but he did not reach for them right away. He was not supposed to be here. He instead reached for the bread and some of the bacon.

"There is no need to be shy," the princess told him. She too leaned toward the plate.

"Your pardon," he said in reply. "I had been hoping to find the kitchen when I ran into…" He paused for a moment, trying to find the right thing to say about Mya. He finally settled with, "your friend."

"Servant is the word you are looking for," Mya told him bluntly.

"Yes."

"But now you are here, Lord Snow," the princess said to him as she took a piece of fruit and bit into it.

"Yes," he said, looking her in the eyes for a moment as he spoke. He quickly torn his gaze away, turning it back to the bread in his hand.

"Am I displeasing to look at, Lord Snow?" she asked him.

"No, your Highness." No, she was a true beauty from Dorne where her brother was obviously from the blood of Old Valyria. Her hair was black done in ringlets while his was straight and white. He was pale-skinned and she was olive-toned. Her dark eyes watched him intently while her brother's purple eyes seemed to only see Mya.

"Then why do you turn your gaze from me?"

"I am a bastard, your Highness."

"So is your sister and yet she is my friend. So is Mya and yet she is my faithful hand servant."

"As you say, your Highness." No matter what she said, she was a royal princess and he was a bastard. He knew enough of the world to know that this wouldn't be one of those songs Sansa loved. They would not fall in love and be married against all odds.

"Tell me, Lord Snow," the prince said to him, making him turn his attention away from his sister. "Do you plan to join in the tourney?"

"I…had not thought on it, your Highness." That was a lie. He did want to join the tourney, to prove his worth to the Seven Kingdoms. But he would be going up against men who were experienced then he was, he was a bastard, and most importantly, he was in the middle of Lady Stark's home. He was on thin ice already for coming here; he had no wish to fall through.

"Aegon, call me Aegon."

"That would be wrong of me...my prince."

He rolled his eyes. "How droll, someone who actually doesn't try to rise above his station."

Anger burned through Jon's chest at that remark. He knew that he was a bastard but there was no need to insult him about it. _"But this is the royal prince,"_ he told himself. _"He can insult whoever he likes."_

"Aegon, there's no need to be rude," his sister told the prince. "He is just remembering his place."

"Of course, dear sister, how could I forget?" He looked briefly at Mya and then at Jon again. "Now tell me, Lord Snow. Do you plan on entering the tourney?"

Before Jon could answer, he heard Jocelyn's voice from behind him. "Jon, what are you doing here?"

He turned and saw her standing at the entrance to the garden along with several of the princess's ladies-in-waiting. He stood up, again feeling underdressed. Next time he slept in the godswood, he was bringing a jerkin with him. "I was looking for the kitchens," he told his half-sister.

"And yet, you ended up here."

"Yes. I will go now." He had overstayed his welcome.

"No, stay," Princess Rhaenys told him. "You have not eaten much, Lord Snow."

He shouldn't be there, not now. But he could not refuse a royal command. "As you wish, your Highness." He sat back down and ate the bacon.

The ladies came walking into the garden and sat down around the royal siblings, Jocelyn sitting close to the princess under the shade of the tree and Lady Lannister a close second, sitting where the sun could shine upon her. Mya looked around at the number of ladies and stood up. "We're going to need more food," she declared "I'll go to the kitchen."

Jon started to rise again. "Could some of you girls help Mya?" the princess asked the ladies, looking more specifically at the younger ones, most of them showing in some way that they were from houses of the Riverlands. "I'm certain that there will be more trays then she can be able to handle."

They looked uncomfortable with the order but they obeyed. For some reason, the prince looked mournful as they left. "Hello again, Lord Snow," Lady Tya said to him, looking right at him.

"My lady," he said back, meeting her gaze for a brief moment.

"Lord Snow?" repeated Jocelyn sharply. "I wasn't aware that you had earned such a title, Jon."

"And why should he not have one?" Lady Lannister asked her. "He is the son of a lord and a lord of a Great House at that."

" _I am a bastard,"_ Jon thought to himself.

"Going by that reasoning, you should address me as Lady Sand. After all, we share the same lord for a father." She ignored the spluttering blonde and looked at him. "Where's Ghost? Those wolves never leave your or the other's side."

"He's in the godswood."

"Oh, that's a shame," said a blonde-haired blue-eyed woman who sat next to Princess Arianne. "I would have loved to see such a magnificent creature."

"Yes indeed," the princess herself agreed from where she lounged near Prince Aegon. "I've heard the servants speak of a direwolf with fur white as snow and eyes red as blood. Yet, I cannot seem to remember seeing such a creature at the feast."

He wasn't sure how to address the Princess of Dorne when the royal princess was there with her. It was probably best to choose safe words. "He was not there, my lady."

She laughed lightly at his words. "I am not a lady, I am a princess."

He bowed his head to her. "I beg your forgiveness. I did not mean to offend."

"No offense was given, but you still have not answered my question."

"I can answer that question, coz," Princess Rhaenys said. "He was with his master, outside in the courtyard."

"What were you doing outside when there was a feast inside?" Jocelyn asked him. She looked at him like he lost his mind. She had never been one to stop herself from attending a feast in Winterfell, even if it was under the gaze of Lady Stark.

"I was practicing with the sword," he told her as he returned his attention to the food in his hands.

"Absent tunic," the royal princess added with a knowing smile.

He lowered his head back to the bread in his hand, his cheeks red. All eyes were on him, he just knew it. And he was just wearing a tunic. "And how would you know such a thing, sister?" Prince Aegon asked.

"Why, that was the first time we met."

" _We did meet but I wore my tunic!"_ he thought. He would've said something but those eyes were still on him. He kept his head down and took a bite out of the bread. Why would she omit such a fact?

"Tell us, Lord Snow," Lady Lannister said to him. "Why were you practicing with your sword with no tunic on?"

That wasn't what he wanted to talk about but he didn't really have a choice in the matter. It was best to answer honestly. He brought his head up to look her in the eyes. "I found the night to be warm, my lady, more so when I began practicing."

"Oh really…?" For some reason, her eyes began to look at him more intensely. It made Jon nervous, more so when he saw the other women there doing the exact same.

"Are you any good at wielding a sword, Snow?" the prince asked him.

He turned to look at him. "I'm the best in Winterfell," he said proudly. He had heard those words from Ser Cassel and he liked to think that they were hard-won words.

"Interesting," Prince Aegon said shortly as he idly turned a piece of bread in his head. Now that he had his answer, he didn't need anything else. Jon felt a little hurt that was his only question about him but said nothing. What would it do?

"Lord Snow, perhaps you could help clarify something for me," Princess Rhaenys said. He turned to look at her, holding her gaze. "Jocelyn has talked about my uncle forming a little group of the sons of the Northern lords. Is there any truth to this?"

Jocelyn had a small frown on her lips at those words. Jon didn't blame her. She was half-Stark after all. She didn't take kindly to lies. But she wasn't his concern right now. What his concern was making sure he answered the royal siblings to the best of his ability. "Yes, Prince Viserys formed the Pack, if that's what you mean," he answered.

"How did it form?"

"When Theon Greyjoy first came to Winterfell and Lord Bolton sent his son to foster as well." Domeric, Viserys, Theon, and Robb had banded together into something that made the other northern lords sends their sons to Winterfell as well. Together, they all came to form the Pack, and left him out.

"Then perhaps you can help us with something," Lady Tya said. "I remember seeing a quiet lad among this 'Pack' of yours. I believe I have never seen a man wear a cape of pink so well. And his eyes, I would swear they were two pieces of moonstone. But for the life of me, I cannot remember who he is. Can you help me discover this man's identity, Lord Snow?"

"You speak of Domeric, my lady. He's Lord Bolton's son." He also played the harp quite well, yet remained quiet about his skill. He was one of the quieter Pack members, always preferring to watch and wait before saying or doing anything. It made some people forget that he was in the room at times, which made for some humorous moments. He noticed one of the other ladies look at the Lannister with anger in her eyes, why he did not know.

"Lord Snow, might you help me with naming one of these northern lords?" a lady with the sigil of a white tower on her dress asked him. "He was a big man with dark brown hair. His sigil was a black bear on a field of green."

"That is Jack Mormont, Lord Jorah's son." Jack was a person who preferred to laugh then fight, but that didn't mean he couldn't wield a mace and a sword well.

"I have a question," Princess Arianne asked him while she took a blood orange (one of the few fruits he could name that were there) from the trays. "What kind of house has buckets for a sigil?"

"That is not exactly a house, my la…your Highness. That's the sigil of House Wull, one of the mountain clans. You must have seen Torrhen Wull." One of the wildest members of the Pack, he could laugh or fight with equal intensity.

But his explanation made everyone laugh. Even the Kingsguard had an amused expression on his face. "Buckets?" said the blonde beside Princess Arianne. "What self-respecting house would take a bucket as their sigil?"

"Now, now, Tyene," the princess told her. "I'm sure that there is a reason for such a thing." But her voice held the same disbelief she had.

"You would have to speak to Torrhen of that, your Highness." The fact the clansman saw no fault with being called "Buckets," was probably not something to tell them now.

"Perhaps I will."

The morning passed on like that. As he ate his breakfast, they would continue to ask him about the Pack. They asked him about what sigil belonged to which house, about who had that sigil, and what they were like. He answered to the best of his ability. But with each one he described, how Jack, Asher, and Daryn were the jesters among the Pack while Domeric seemed to be the sensible one among them (which just added to the japes), how Rodrick and Roger could be found testing themselves against one another, how Torrhen and Morgan liked to surprise Domeric while he was playing the harp, and everything else about them, he felt like he did not belong.

In all the things he had described to them, he was hardly, if at all, a part of. The ones he was ever actually close to were Robb, the prince, and (the gods help him), Theon. And there were days when he felt that was at an arm's length too. But what should he expect? He was the Bastard of Winterfell. He couldn't ask for more lest people see him as craving for power. He knew his place.

"Ah, Lord Edmure," Prince Aegon suddenly said. All eyes turned to the entrance and Jon's heart suddenly froze in fear. Lord Tully was standing there at the entrance but so was his sister, Lady Stark. Arya, Bran, or Rickon were not with her.

"Your Highness, how do you fare this morning?" Lord Tully asked the prince, walking towards him and bowing. "And Princess Rhaenys, you look radiant this morning," he declared as he kissed her hand.

"You flatter me, my lord," she said with a smile.

Jon felt more than a twinge of jealously at the sight of them together. But that feeling died when he heard Lady Catelyn speak. "What are you doing here?" she asked. She did not say his name, but he knew she was speaking to him.

He quickly stood up. "I was trying to find the kitchens to break my fast," he answered, his head bowed to her. "I got…waylaid." He couldn't think of anyway else to say it and he knew that it wouldn't be enough.

"Waylaid into sharing breakfast with the royal prince and princess," she pointed out.

"Yes, Lady Stark." There was no way he could deny it.

"There's no need to feel hostile, Lady Stark," Tya Lannister told her, getting her attention. "Lord Snow simply provided us with conversation."

Her eyes blazed at his title and they turned to look at him. "Lady Stark, I—" he began to say.

"Do not speak," she commanded and he fell silent. "Leave, now."

He knew that voice and that look. He left the garden quickly, not wanting to make her even angrier.

The corridors became confusing to him once more. But not once did Jon stop moving. To him, Lady Stark's gaze kept him moving further and further away. But it was also a good thing. He needed to be away from the princess. The looks she had been giving him during the talking made him feel something he shouldn't. And even though they sat apart, separated by two trays of food, when she spoke he felt like she was besides, whispering into his ear.

Whatever it was, it could not and would not be love. She was the princess of the royal family and he was just a bastard. He did not live in a song. No one would have him. Even all those ladies he had sat with and talked to had only wanted to know about Prince Viserys, Robb, and the Pack. They did not ask about him, only seeing him as a source of information.

When he came across two ladies in the corridors, he almost didn't see them until it was too late. "Your pardon," he said to them both. When he tried to go around, a hand on the wall stopped him.

"And where's a little northern shit like you going?" the woman who placed the hand asked him. She wasn't what the Seven Kingdoms would call beautiful. Her face was hard with eyes close to one another and hair with a color he had seen on a rat. Yet she did not move from where she stood, blocking his path.

"Where I go is my business, my lady," he replied stiffly. "Now may I please pass?"

"You haven't answered my sister's question. Where are you going?" the other woman asked him, stepping closer to him. Unlike the other woman, she was beautiful. Her olive skin, along with her eyes and dark hair that was done in a braid, gave her an exotic look. He had a feeling that with a smile, she could see men's hearts racing and pledge their love for her.

"I am heading outside the castle, my ladies." Being truthful was the best policy right now.

"From where?" she asked him, taking another step towards him. If she took another step, he would have to look up at her face.

"From the garden where Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys broke their fast," he answered.

She laughed lightly. "You jest."

He drew back a little, offended that she would even think that. "I am not."

"You must be. Our royal cousins would not let some northern dog into their presence, not unless they were forced to do such a thing."

Anger burned through him at that insult and his honor compelled him to reply. "Then they suffered me gladly, for I left that garden not twenty minutes ago."

"You are confident for a dog," the first woman declared. Then she looked at him for a long second and then smirked. "Or should I say pup? You look like you're barely old enough to wield a training sword."

"Who are you to say such things to my face?" He knew that they must've been ladies of noble birth and therefore, above him. But his anger guided his actions and he didn't give a damn about what the consequences.

"I am Obara and this is Nymeria, my sister. We are Oberyn Martell's daughters." There was pride in her voice as she spoke those names.

If he was of rational mind, he might've proceeded more calmly. But his anger and insulted pride overrode those two things. All that mattered to him at that moment was that they were not as high as he had first thought. "His bastard daughters, I say. You are Obara Sand and Nymeria Sand," he declared, pointing a finger at each of them when he said their names.

If they were insulted, they did not show it. They actually seemed amused by him and his words. "And you think you're above us?" Nymeria Sand asked him, laughing again. "Tell us, which northern dog chose to whelp you on a whore?"

"Watch your words," he told her, his voice becoming tight. That last part stung but it was most likely the truth. No, what made him angry was how they referred to his lord father.

"I think you made him mad, Nym," Obara said with a harsh laugh. "He must think his father is an important man."

"My father is Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell," he told them both.

For a moment, they froze with looks of surprise and shock on their faces and he enjoyed seeing those looks. But then the amusement they had vanished as well and was replaced with looks of utter loathing and contempt. "So, the son of the man so afraid to fight the Targaryens, he ran to the other way to fight barbarians," Obara said as she raked him with a sneer.

"Seems like we're going to need to talk to our cousins, Obara," Nymeria said to her.

"Agreed," she said back. They began walking forward. "Out of the way, dog," she said to Jon, shoving him hard against the wall.

His whole side came alight with pain as he got back onto his feet. When he looked back, they were already farther down the corridor. His anger was fading now. _"They're the same as me and they think they're better?"_ Perhaps it was because they were Dornish. Jon had heard that they were different from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. Or it might be that they were related to the royal family through marriage, even if they were bastards. _"If they run into Lady Stark, they would not stand against her."_ That would be a sight to see.

He pressed onward down the corridor. His luck soon came to him as he found a way outside. As he took in the sky and sun, he found himself at a loss. What should he do now? He decided to go to the tourney grounds and see what the layout would be like. That meant having to leave the castle proper.

No one paid much attention to him as he walked out past the gates. He was just another face in the crowd. People were moving into the castle just as quickly as they were walking out. He found the tourney grounds easily enough. There were separate grounds for the melee and the jousting but both were large enough to host several knights. He did not know where the archery contest would be held but it must be somewhere close.

"A truly depressing sight isn't it?" a voice of a man asked from beside him. He turned to see a thin grey-haired man standing beside him, staring at the same thing he was.

"Your pardon?" asked Jon.

"That," he said, pointing at the tourney grounds off in the distance. "In a few days, the knights that have come will be on those fields, charging their horses and smashing their lances against their shields as well as swinging their swords at one another and generally causing a mess."

"And that is a depressing thing?"

"For us squires it is, we're the ones who will have to clean up the mess." There was something so droll about his voice and his words that Jon could not help but chuckle at him. He didn't take offense at the sound of laughter. "I am Eddison, but people call me Edd."

"I am Jon," he introduced himself. "What brings you to Riverrun, Edd?"

"The unfortunate business of being a squire to a knight," he answered. "What about you?"

"My brother and sister insisted I come."

"Are you planning on joining?"

He shook his head. It was a nice dream but only a dream. "No, I am here only to watch."

Oddly enough, that made the other man smile. "Ah, good, and here I was already thinking you might be dead in a few days. I'm glad to be wrong."

"What do you mean by that? No one has died in a tourney." He had never heard of such a thing.

"Well, not by intentional means." He sighed and turned away. "You will have to pardon, I must find my ser in that maze." He gestured widely to the mass amount of tents surrounding the grounds that almost seen city-like from a distance. Jon had never seen so many tents before in one place.

"Might I come with you?" he asked as Edd began to leave. "You seem like a good guide through such a thing."

"Why would you want to go through that?"

"I wanted to look around and see what is going on."

"Well, I guarantee that you won't be content with what you see. But I could use someone to speak with. Come on then."

They made their way into the tent city and then through it. As they walked, Jon found Edd to be truly droll in his humor. Anything he spoke about himself was not without a good dose of self-mockery. He was from a noble in the Vale but from a lesser branch that was supposedly so poor he lived no better than the smallfolk. His service as a squire was his way to earn something better for himself.

When Jon told him his last name was Snow, he did not distance himself from him. Instead he just said, "You're a cheery fellow, aren't you?" when he had been grim about it. They both shared a chuckle at that before turning to other things to talk about. They were discussing sword techniques as they walked through a quiet part of the city when Jon heard something and came to a stop.

"Do you hear that?" he asked Edd.

"Aye, I do," Edd replied. It was the sound of a person in pain and a body being struck. They followed the sounds through the tents until they came to the source: two boys who had the look of squires like Edd standing over someone on the ground, punching and kicking at it while they laughed. Neither of them could tell who it was on the ground as a rich green cloak covered the body completely.

Jon was enraged at the sight. "Get off him!" he roared as he charged forward, grabbing the nearest squire by the shoulder and punching him hard in the jaw.

The boy fell to the ground but got right back up. "You fucking bastard!" he screamed as he swung a wild punch at Jon. It was sloppy and easily avoidable. Whoever trained the squire to fight did not do well in doing so. He kept an eye on the other squire, only to see Edd already fighting him.

Jon was easily able to beat him back down to the ground. "Come on, get up," he told the squire. "What? Is it hard to fight someone who can fight back?" He didn't get an answer as the squire started to crawl away from him. It earned him a swift kick in his arse. "Leave, now."

The squire got his feet beneath and ran away like the craven he was. The other square quickly followed him, running just as fast. "The next time you decide to randomly charge into a fight not your own, do me the courtesy of letting me know beforehand," Edd said to him, already having a black eye.

But Jon was more focused on the person on the ground. "Are you alright?" he asked.

The cloak moved around and a boy's head soon appeared out of it. His head was moon-shaped with cheeks that bulged with fatness but was bruised with cuts already dripping blood. His dark hair was also caked with blood along with mud from the ground. "Tha-thank you," he barely managed to say, the one that hadn't been forced shut by blood looking at them. "You saved me, both of you."

"He did the saving, I just got beaten around," Edd replied.

"Can you stand?" Jon asked him.

"I-I think so." He tried to stand up, revealing himself to be the same height as them but much more fatter. He fell down again with a yelp and laid there weeping. "Muh-my leg," he whimpered. "My leg hurts."

"Give me your arm. Edd, help me get him onto his feet." Together, they raised him back up and they saw him favoring one leg more than the other. "A maester, we have to find a maester."

"What goes on here?" someone asked as he came into view of them. He was a Dornishman, older than the three of them with brown hair the color of sand. His jaw was strong and his blue eyes looked upon them. There was no sigil upon his jerkin, so Jon thought him to be a hedge knight.

"He's been attacked," he told the knight, looking at the boy he was holding up.

"By whom?" the knight demanded, looking at the boy and allowing outrage run across his face.

"Squires, I believe. I do not know who they serve." He didn't think to look for any sigils on their clothes.

The rage slowly vanished from his face. "Come with me, I know where a maester is."

"You have our thanks, ser," Edd said, his voice straining slightly under the weight he was holding. "Might we have your name?"

"Ser Daemon Sand," he introduced himself. "Come." He turned on his heel and walked away from them, walking down the row of tents while staying in sight of them.

Jon and Edd followed him, carrying the boy with them. "Th-thank you again," the boy said once more. "I thought they were going to kill me."

"Think nothing of it," Jon told him. "Any good man would have done the same."

"Then it's probably a shame there aren't many good men in the world," Edd said bleakly. "The name's Edd, by the way."

"Jon," the Bastard of Winterfell introduced himself.

"Sa-Samwell," the boy said. "But I've been called Sam."

"It's a pleasure meeting you, Sam," Edd said to him as they walked through the city of tents. "Have you ever considering losing a few pounds? You're heavy."

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

Remember when I wrote that a few people still thought that the Northerners were cravens who would rather flee from a fight? Yeah, the Sand Snakes are a part of that group and they're not above keeping it to themselves. Also, with their father's temper, things are not going to be pretty when they go near Northerners.

Of course Jon was going to meet up with Sam. Where would he be without his closest friend? Sam is the one who helps him see the reality of things. But that's not all. Sam wasn't the only friend he had. His closest, but not the only.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 5: Rhaella

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

The Dowager Queen sat in her chair sipping the goblet of wine before her. It was a weak vintage from the Arbor, strong enough to give her the taste but not so strong she would be impaired. She and her daughter were in her rooms, waiting. Sandor stood by the door and Daenerys sat at the table with her. They were waiting for Viserys to come and join them.

Someone knocked on the door, getting her attention as well as Sandor. He reached for the door with one hand and the other going for the hilt of his sword. "Who is it?" he demanded in that rasp that was his voice.

"Prince Viserys, here to see my mother and sister," his voice spoke from the other side, so different from the voice she had known when he was a child. He was a man now and had a man's voice.

Sandor opened the door just enough to look through the crack, the door creaking as he moved it. "You look like a Targaryen."

"Thank you for telling me. Might I come in?"

"Sandor, open the door," Rhaella told him. He did just that and Viserys walked in. But then a tall woman dressed in men's clothing walked in behind him.

"Who the fuck are you?" Sandor demanded. He began to draw the sword out of the scabbard.

"I the fuck am Osha," she retorted. "Now put that sword of yours away. I come in peace."

"Viserys, what is the meaning of this?" Rhaella asked her son.

"My apologies, Mother," he said. "But she followed me up here. Said she wanted to meet the family all the kneelers bow to."

"Can you not just send her on her way, Viserys?"

To that he chuckled and for a moment, Rhaella felt like she was hearing her dead husband once more, back when he hadn't descended into madness. "Braver men then I have tried to stop Osha from doing what she want. None of them ever succeeded," he explained.

The wilding scoffed and then looked at her directly. Never had someone been so bold as to look Rhaella directly in the eyes, save for her family. "So, you're the kneeler queen," she stated shortly.

"I am the Dowager Queen, if that is what you mean."

"Huh? What does that mean?"

"It means she is not the ruling queen, just the mother of the king," Viserys told her.

"So where's the kneeler king then? I'd thought he'd be here."

"That was what I had been thinking." He turned his gaze to his mother. "Where is Rhaegar? The rest of the royal family is here and yet, he isn't?"

"Rhaegar and Elia are their way here," she told her son. "They stayed behind to finish a few things. They will be here at Riverrun presently." She wondered if she should tell her son the news. Rhaegar had informed her long before they had decided to attend the tourney. "Viserys, you should know that your brother has found you a betrothal."

He froze momentarily as he sat down in the chair at the table. "I…see," he finally said. He reached for the decanter of water and poured himself a cup. "And who is my supposedly betrothed?"

"The Princess Arianne of Dorne," Daenerys told him. She had learned the same time Rhaella had. "That's way she and her family are here."

He looked at her and smiled briefly. "Thank you for that, Dany."

"At least ya won't have to worry about how long you'll have to run when you steal her," Osha told him.

He looked at her. "We don't do that here in the south, Osha."

She snorted. "Aye, you kneelers and your betrothals," she said, making it sound like it was something that should be gotten rid of.

"What do you mean by stealing?" Daenerys asked the wilding, her eyes and voice curious.

"With the free folk, if a man wants a woman, he has to steal one from a different tribe," she answered, sounding like she had said those words many times before.

Both mother and daughter were shocked to hear such words. "That is barbaric!" the queen mother declared in horror. "Can the women do nothing about it?"

"Aye, they can. If they don't want to be stolen, they fight back." She made it sound so simple.

"Mother, might we speak of something else?" Viserys asked her. "Like for instance, who is he?" He turned slightly and pointed at Sandor standing by the door.

"He is Sandor Clegane, Daenerys's and mine sworn shield."

"Why does the Dowager Queen need a common knight to be her sworn shield when the Kingsguard are there to protect her?"

"I'm not a knight," Sandor growled out from where he stood. "You would do well to remember that, little man."

Her son whipped his head around to look at him. "Watch what you say. I am the blood of the dragon," he hissed in reply. But the Hound wasn't impressed by his words.

"Viserys, please," Rhaella said to him, making him turn his head back to look at her. "Sandor has my trust for I know that he is honest and will protect me and Daenerys for as long as we live." There was another reason he was her sworn shield. After Aerys had died, she did not trust the Kingsguard anymore. They had all stood in silence as her brother had murdered and burned the people he was to be king of and when he came to visit her. How could she trust them when they just stood by in silence?

But she could see that her son still had trouble believing her. "Where did you find him? In a gutter?" he asked.

"More of a shithole," Sandor said with a harsh bark of a laugh.

"Sandor, your home is quite lovely," Daenerys said to him, smiling at him. It was a smile that would've made men weak in the knees and pledge their eternal service to her daughter.

But their sworn shield would have not of it. "No, it's not, little dragon." He had started calling her that not long after he had started his service to them.

"He came into my service at the tourney at Lannisport that celebrated the defeat of the ironmen," Rhaella told her son.

"The Greyjoy Rebellion," he said to himself. "Yes, I remember that. I was by Lord Stark's side as he sailed for the islands."

"What? You rode to war?"

"I think I sailed more than I rode," he said in jest. Daenerys giggled at it while the wilding woman just laughed out loud. It was a loud laugh that bounced off the walls of the room but did not echo.

"Why had you gone to war? You were only a boy."

His eyes hardened at those words for a moment. But then they soften and he said, "I was a boy old enough to know what war was, Mother. That was Lord Stark's decision to bring me along. I stayed by his side throughout the entire fighting."

"Did you kill anyone?" his sister asked him. Her voice didn't have any morbid fascination when she asked the question, just a curiosity.

"…Aye," he answered, drinking the water in his cup. For a moment, Rhaella wondered if he would prefer to drink the wine rather than the water. Did Lord Stark fight from the front when they landed on Pyke? Did he send her son into battle unprepared?

But even though she wanted to voice those questions, she knew that he would not want it. But there was something else she wanted to know. "Viserys, perhaps you can tell me something," she said to him. Outside the window, she heard the birds chirping their songs.

"What is it?" he asked back.

"How could the Northern fleet have sailed south so quickly after the ironmen rebelled? And how could they have sailed from the north? They would have to have to sail around Dorne to come up from the south." There had been many theories about how it was accomplished but most had put it down to either the luck of the gods or "Northern secrecy."

"Lord Stark had commanded all northern lords who commanded ships to bring them to the west coast. Lord Manderly brought his fleet across the land to do so."

"That's impossible," Sandor said. "Something like that would take months."

"Aye, it did."

It came to Rhaella. "Then that means Lord Stark began this long before the ironmen rebelled." Her son nodded in acknowledgement to her words. "But why would he do that? The rebellion happened so suddenly."

"Only to the south," Viserys replied. "A year before the rebellion, Balon Greyjoy sent Lord Stark a letter. It suggested that the Iron Islands and the North rebel against the Targaryens, going so far to offer helping him in becoming King in the North for aiding them."

Her breath left her almost as soon as she heard those words. The North had been given the opportunity to rebel against her son and they would've gladly done so, she just knew it. But instead, they had attacked the ironmen. "Why did Lord Stark refuse his offer?"

"I asked him the same question as we sailed for Pyke. He told that he doesn't trust my brother but he can trust that the ironmen will cling to their Old Way as stubbornly as they could, which meant they would be the enemy of the North."

"He sounds like a true northern lord," Daenerys spoke out, even though she had never met a northern lord before this tourney. While her son and the wilding looked at her oddly, Rhaella did not. Her daughter was prone to say such odd things at times. It did not mean she was mad by any stretch, just that she had odd moments.

"Yes, he is. There are days when I wish he was my father." He looked at his mother as he spoke those words. "But I have seen his anger and I have no wish to make him angry. It's like the freezing cold in the middle of winter."

"Can't be that fucking scary," Sandor said with a snort.

"Do you know Lord Stark?" he asked the Hound.

"No."

"Then don't speak of what you don't know. His anger sent the North to attack the ironmen and brought me to Winterfell."

"What do you mean by that, Viserys?" Rhaella asked him. She knew why he had been sent to Winterfell. It was to foster peace between the North and the rest of Westeros.

"Lord Stark told me that when he returned north, he was content to just be the Lord of Winterfell. It was only when Rhaegar sent him the message that congratulated him in fulfilling his duty as Warden of the North that enraged him to such an extent that he threatened to match Rhaegar's crown with his own."

She remembered that message. Rhaegar had written the letter soon after he had ascended the Iron Throne, claiming it would be the first step to peace. But now she knew it was the letter that had almost continued the war. "I am truly sorry for what happened to you, Viserys."

"I do not blame you, Mother," he said to her, his voice soft as he spoke. "There's only one person I blame for what happened."

His name was on their lips and yet, neither of them said the name. "Let us go outside for a walk," Daenerys suggested brightly. "We cannot stay inside all day long."

"Yes, that sounds like an excellent idea," Rhaella agreed to her daughter's idea. "Come, let us go."

"What's so great about what's outside?" Osha asked as they all stood up from the table.

"The warmth?" asked Viserys in an amused tone.

"…Aye, good point there," she finally conceded.

"Do you not have warmth beyond the Wall?" Daenerys asked her as they walked through the door and out of the room. The songs of the birds fell into silence as they left and then came as they walked past windows.

"Aye, we have warmth and we make sure we never lose it. But it ain't nothing like…this." She gestured out the window they passed, where the sun shined on it. "You kneelers have it easy."

"That is a falsehood," Rhaella told her. "We have it just as hard as the wildings do."

"I doubt that," she said with snort.

She was willing to argue that but she didn't wish to bring up her past. But there was another question she wanted to know the question to. "How old are you?"

"Old enough," she replied. "Why?"

"Were you a part of the army the King beyond the Wall had marshalled to challenge the Wall?" As she asked the question, both of her children turned their gaze to her as well. Daenerys she understood but Viserys too? It seemed that he did not ask that question of her. The only one who did look interested was the Hound.

"Barely old enough for that," she answered. "I was still learning how to fight when that happened. But I've heard the stories."

"What kind of stories?" Daenerys asked her.

"The stories about how Lord Stark and his army appeared at the Night's Watch's side when the free folk marched upon the Wall, how they charged out and met the free folk, how Lord Stark dueled the King beyond the Wall in single combat and took his life and head when he was victorious. Those kinds of stories," she added as an afterthought.

There was no reply to that, not from her or her children. How could they respond to such a question? No one in the south had ever really considered the battle the North fought against the wildings. They thought of it as the reason they did not join the rebels and left it at that. "Did the northerners make that much of a difference?" Rhaella asked Osha.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I wasn't there. But I've been told that if they hadn't been there, us free folk might've finally got past the Wall."

That was a chilling, one she did not wish to think on. As they walked on towards nowhere in particular, they heard someone approaching their direction. That person soon revealed themselves to be Elia Sand, one of the younger Sand Snakes. "Your Grace, you Highnesses," she said with barely a bowed head.

"Hello, Elia," Daenerys said to her.

"What are you doing?"

"We're just walking."

"Then I'll accompany you." She fell into their group before anyone could say anything.

"Elia, where are you!?" another voice called out. Mere seconds afterwards, Jocelyn Sand appeared in sight.

"I am here with the Dowager Queen and her children," the younger Sand said with more than a hint of smugness in her voice. "There's no need for you to look after me. You can go back to whatever it was you were doing."

"Your own cousin asked me to keep an eye on you," Jocelyn said to her.

"There's no need for that now. You can go back to your own family now." Like the smugness, there was more than a hint of an insult in her voice at that. Rhaella knew of Ashara Dayne's bastard daughter and how she was sent North after her mother had recovered from some sickness. That was enough to earn the Sand Snake's distaste, it seemed.

Jocelyn stared at her for a long moment. Then she saw the wilding amongst them. "Osha, if you would…?" she asked, leaving it hanging.

Everyone else was confused, until Osha nodded and struck Elia on the head. "Ow!" she yelped, almost falling to the ground from the blow.

"Listen, you little brat," Jocelyn told her. "I don't care if you like me or not. But your cousin asked me to keep an eye on you and that's what I intend to do. Don't try hiding behind the royal family to get away from me." She turned her head to look at the royal family and bowed it. "Forgive me for making such a scene."

Before Rhaella could speak, Viserys did. "There's nothing to apologize for, Jocelyn," he told her easily. He was comfortable speaking with her. Then he turned to the wilding. "Good hit, Osha."

"It was easy," she said in reply. Elia turned her head to look at them, her eyes glistening with silent tears. Whether it was from pain of the blow or the betrayal of trust she thought she had with them, Rhaella did not know.

Neither did she care. _"You're not my child. You're not my family. I owe you no loyalty,"_ she thought to herself. She didn't care for the attitude of the elder Sand Snakes and it was clear that was rubbing off on the younger generation. Steps would have to be taken to bring them to heel. Perhaps a word with Elia will change that.

"Where are we going?" Jocelyn asked.

"Nowhere in particular," Daenerys told her. "We were just walking for the air."

"Then let us walk."

They kept on walking, although Elia kept sending Jocelyn foul looks that she chose to ignore. "Tell me something, Jocelyn," Rhaella said, getting her attention (and her surprise). "Who is the man my granddaughter and her friends will be playing for this tournament?"

"Your Grace?" she said, surprised even more than before.

"Come now, girl. I have ears and I have eyes. There's no need to hide it from me."

"They're playing for Ser Daemon Sand, your Grace," Elia Sand told her. "It is a good choice, if I do say so."

"No one asked you, Elia," Jocelyn said, her voice cracking like a whip. "And it's only the Dornish ladies who are playing for Ser Daemon. Their hope to make him the man to play for will not happen."

"You do not know that."

"And you do?" She did not say anything in reply. "I thought not."

"Then who is it?" Rhaella asked, bringing their attention back to her.

"It is…my brother." The bastard was hesitant to say the words, which meant something.

She knew of the game and yet, she was hesitant to name her brother. Rhaella had met ladies who had been proud that their brothers had been chosen and would announce it for all to hear. For her to be hesitant, it must mean something. "You are not glad that your brother has been selected?"

"Aye, I might've. If it was Robb," she said.

Those were confusing, until the wilding snorted and her son looked at her with surprise. "Jon?" he said. "They're playing for Jon?"

"It would seem so."

"What exactly are they playing for him, anyway?" Osha asked them both.

They shared a look before Viserys looked her straight to the face and said, "They're going to try and steal him."

Recognition dawned on her face at those words. "Ah, that makes much more sense."

"Elia, why are you mad?" Daenerys asked the younger Sand bastard.

"Is there any particularly any reason after we're playing that we are playing for a bastard and a northern at that?" she asked.

"Rhaenys was the one who suggested it," Jocelyn said. "She said it would be different from when the game was last played, giving it a sense of freshness."

"And why would she say that?" the other bastard with demanded.

"How should I know? I'm not privy to all of her secrets and thoughts."

The sounds of a harp being played began to echo in the hallway. They stopped and looked around, trying to find its origins. It was coming from a door not that far away from them. Rhaella listened to it for a moment. It was not her son playing and neither was it any of the bards or singers she was aware of in King's Landing.

"Is that Dom?" her son asked.

"I believe it is," Jocelyn replied. There was a faint blush to her cheeks and her voice had become a little breathless. Appearently, she fancied this boy that they were talking about.

"Who's Dom?" Daenerys asked.

"Sssh," the wilding told her. "You'll want to keep quiet now, m'lady. If you spook him, he'll run."

"What?"

"Hush." She turned her ear to the sound of the music and followed it to the door. They went after her, coming to a stop outside the door where the music came from. The music from the harp came in starts and stops. But Rhaella did not think that it was the mark of an inexperienced player but rather someone who was figuring out a new song.

The wilding opened the door ever so slightly so that only she could see inside. "Aye, that be him." He started to play again and so they listened to him strum the strings of the harp and sing a song.

 _Love me one more time,_ _  
_ _Make this night last forever,_ _  
_ _For on the morrow, I leave for battle-_

 _I may survive,_ _  
_ _And I shall return to you_ ,

He stopped again. "He's frowning," Osha told them all.

"Hm, that note doesn't sound right," he said barely loud. They all heard the sound of a quill scratching against parchment.

It went on for a couple of more seconds before Rhaella put her foot down. "We will leave him be," she declared. "It is obvious to the eye that he is working. We should not interrupt him in his work.

"No, that's for Torrhen and Morgan to do," Viserys said lightly as they walked away from the door. The music began to play again, following them down the hall. Its stops and starts began to grate on Rhaella's nerves when they finally faded from hearing.

Their walking through the halls soon began to attract the attention of the servants and the others. They created a path through the halls by stepping to the walls, bowing their heads to the Dowager Queen and her children.

The bastards and the wilding left them at some point, leaving her family with only Sandor for protection. Rhaella felt more protected because of that. Daenerys came to a stop suddenly, making them all stop. "What is it, little dragon?" Sandor asked her, his hand going to his sword.

"I thought I heard a wolf."

Viserys looked at her and then at the surrounding area. They were in a corridor that led to the open grounds. They could hear the sounds of people moving, talking, and training from beyond the entrance. But that was it. "I don't hear of the direwolves. Are you sure about that, Dany?"

"Yes, I thought I heard a wolf." Her look became distant. "They protect their own."

"What?"

"The wolves," she told her brother. "When one of their own are threatened, they band together to protect them."

Those words sent a chill up Rhaella's back. They were similar, far too similar for her tastes to her feelings about the Uprising. Her son had taken Lyanna Stark while her brother murdered Lord Stark and his heir, leaving the second son to take control of the North. The North might've risen in rebellion to protect their own but they got nothing for it except for the deaths of the Starks. The only things that benefited them were her son and the fact Rhaegar did not get the girl he had taken.

But her son nodded in agreement. "That they do. I have seen it myself. But how do you know of it?"

"The wolf lady told me."

He looked at her with confusion in his eyes. "The wolf lady?" he repeated.

"It's no one," Rhaella told him. "Daenerys claims to see a ghost in the Red Keep, wandering the halls with hood drawn over her head and wolves following in her wake."

"She's very kind and sweet. She tells me of the things she knew in life," Daenerys said. Viserys continued to look at her. His face showed that he was not sure if he should believe her or not.

Finally, he said, "I once met a ghost in the Red Keep."

"No such thing as ghosts," Sandor rasped from where he stood. His hand was still on the sword.

"I am aware of that, dog. I was a child when I met this ghost. I had awoken early in the morning, too early for the servants to properly attend me. I was hungry I went out of my chambers to find food. I came across the ghost looking out a window. I hadn't seen her before and I was still half asleep. She saw me and smiled. When I began to fall back to sleep, she guided me back to my chambers and left me there. When I woke again, I could not find her. I did not think to look for her. She must've been a servant of the lords in the Keep at the time."

"Can you remember anything about her?" Daenerys asked him.

He shook his head and said, "Just her brown hair and her uncertain eyes."

Her son was right; he did not meet a ghost. Rhaegar had brought Lyanna to the Red Keep for a night before taking her down to Dorne. If Rhaella had to guess, her younger son had met her the night she was there. The question she had was why her eldest had brought her to the Red Keep. Had he suddenly taken leave of his senses? His wife had been there too.

They walked out into the open air and saw men of the Vale training in drills. They stood and watched in silence. Rhaella saw crests that pronounced as Royce, Redfort, Hunter, Waynwood, Tollett, Corbray, and Templeton just to name a few. But one that stood above them all was the moon-and-falcon crest of House Arryn.

She saw Jon Arryn standing at the edge of the yard, watching them all train. Near him was young Harrold. Rhaella had known Jon when he had been younger and she could see the resemblance between the two of them. She had once considered Lord Arryn to be something close to a friend but the Rebellion had quashed any feelings like that.

Someone had taken noticed of them, because all movement in the yard stopped as the men looked at them. "Queen Rhaella, Prince Viserys, Princess Daenerys," Lord Arryn said, bowing his head at them. "Is there something we can aide you with?"

Even though he said those words, the men of the Vale were already grouping together, forming a wall of living flesh between them and their lord and their heir. They had lost many men in the Rebellion, along with Lord Arryn's previous two heirs. They were protective of them now.

"No, there is nothing, Lord Arryn," Rhaella said to him. "We were just passing on." When she looked at the faces of the young men, she could see the hostility they held swimming beneath the surface. She found that she couldn't blame them.

"I see. Good day then."

"Good day." They walked on, leaving the men of the Vale behind them. It was a sad feeling to have so many young men be angry for something that neither she nor her two youngest children had any control over. But she could hope that this tourney would take away some of that anger. Both sides of the Rebellion were here and the young people from the Stormlands had already made friends with the loyalists and it was working on the Vale too. All that was left was the North.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent.

That song Domeric was playing was not of my own creation, sorry. I'm not that creative. That was a song by Heather Alexander. If you want a good Celtic song to listen do, she's got some good ones.

Jocelyn's not all that loved down south, although that might be just because of the Sand Snakes. Hmm, I wonder who's responsible for that.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 6: Arya

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

"Would you hurry it up?" Arya demanded of Sansa as they walked down a corridor. She was moving at a quicker pace than her sister and it was really annoying.

"You don't need to run around like some kind of dog," Sansa told her. She was walking the proper way a lady should, which meant she was walking too slowly.

"You're being stupid. Why am I stuck with you?"

"Stuck with you?" she repeated, looking like she had heard something foul. "I'm the one who has to look after you." She sighed dramatically. "Why did Mother have me watch you? I could be sitting with the princess and talking about so many lovely things?"

She snorted at that, like she had seen Osha do so many times. "Like tea and embroidery?" she asked mockingly.

"Yes," Sansa agreed. "We could have been doing that yesterday, instead of leading our direwolves around the castle." She fixed Arya with a look as she said those words.

"That wasn't my fault and you know it. Robb suggested it and we all agreed to it," she retorted.

"I most certainly did not and because of it, Jocelyn was the only one who spent time with Princess Rhaenys."

She heard the slight disgust in her sister's voice at the mention of their other sister and gave her a look of her own. "Jocelyn is our sister."

"Half-sister," she replied instantly. "And more Dornish than anything," she added.

"She's more like you then I am. That's why you stay around her so much." Her and Jeyne Poole and Beth Cassel, they were all so stupid. All they did was talk about embroidery and when it wasn't embroidery, it was about all the songs and tales from the south. It was enough to make Arya gag.

But what made her even more annoyed was how stupid Sansa was being now. Now that they were in the south, she behaved like Jocelyn shouldn't be around them anymore then she should be, whereas in the North she was a constant companion.

"Would you hurry up already?" she demanded of her sister once more. She wanted to see the tents and the people outside the castle walls. Sansa decided that she would come along but she was taking too long.

"They are not going anywhere, Arya. Besides, you hardly look like someone who should be seen by gallant and true knights."

She looked down at herself, looking at the breeches she had stolen from Bran and her own tunic. Neither of them was dirty nor foul smelling. She didn't see the problem with them. But of course, _Sansa_ would find a problem with them. Sansa always found a problem. But she held the words that were bubbling up in her throat.

They kept walking down the corridor and soon came out into a room. It was a small room that was empty and cluttered. At the other end was a door that was opened just a little bit. "Do you have any idea where you are going?" Sansa asked her.

"Of course I do," she replied. She had been down this way before. Just beyond that door was the courtyard near the main gate. Beyond the main gate would be the camp. A lot of interesting things would be in the camp and they might actually see some of it, if her stupid sister would hurry up.

When they finally got out to the courtyard, it felt like it had taken longer than it should have. "There, you see?" Sansa said to her. "We're there."

"No, we're not. We'd be there if you'd move faster."

"I was walking perfectly fine."

The two of them heard and saw a few people moving around in the courtyard. The noise they made was enough to make a low constant hum in their ears. They could see the people walking around but didn't pay much attention. They had the same kind of people in Winterfell but they knew those people.

"Hey, you," she heard a girl's voice say. Her accent didn't sound like she was from the North. Her head turn to the direction of it and saw three older girls coming towards her. They couldn't have been much older than her or Sansa. "Yes, you, boy," the girl in the middle said. She had brown hair and wore a green dress that didn't look good on her. "Where are our horses, boy?"

"…Are you speaking to me?" she asked, unsure if she was or not.

"Yes, I am." She rolled her eyes. "Now, where are our horses?"

"Why do you require horses?" She wasn't insulted that she had been called a boy, but she could Sansa's slightly horrified look out of the corner of her eye.

"Don't question your betters, boy," the girl on the left snapped. "Clearly the gods didn't bless you with the wits to understand that."

"Your pardon, my ladies," Sansa finally said. "But I fear this must be a mistake."

The three of them turned their gaze to her. They looked her up and down, like they were looking at something they were still deciding on. "Who are you?" the middle one asked.

"My name is Lady Sansa—"

"Lady?" she repeated with a scornful laugh. "When did Lord Edmure find it fashionable to present his bastard to proper ladies?"

"Ba-bastard?" repeated Sansa, her voice taking on a stunned tone. Arya could've guessed that she hadn't expected those kinds of words. But while her sister might've been stunned, she was angry. How dare these girls call her a bastard? If she had a weapon, she would run them through on the spot. No, that would be too good for them. She would let Nymeria kill them.

"Oh, are you hard of hearing too? Yes, I name you Edmure Tully's bastard, Sansa Rivers. You are no lady."

"Of course she's no lady," the girl on the right said scornfully. "Look at her dress. I think I've seen the servants in the castle wear something like that. Perhaps it was something from the kitchen." They shared cruel laughs at her bad jape.

Arya really wanted to reach out and throttle the three stupid girls. She might not like to wear dresses like Sansa, but she knew that Mother and Sansa worked hard on her dresses. Sansa was beginning to tremble and Arya could see tears beginning to leak up from her eyes.

"Is something happening here?" asked a new voice. Both Arya and Sansa turned to see another girl walked towards them. She was older than all of them but could not be old enough to be seen as a woman. She wore a plain dress and her black hair was cropped short. Her blue eyes stared at everyone. At her side was another girl, this one was much younger then everyone, even Arya. She had the exact same hair and eyes but her ears were way too big.

"Oh look, the Usurper's bastard," the girl on the left remarked. Her idle comment made both Arya and Sansa stare at her more closely. They had known of Robert Baratheon from their father, but they hadn't known he had a child.

"You three are from House Tyrell," the bastard replied, looking at all three of them. Arya didn't know how she could see that. The three of them might've had flowers on their dresses but so what?

"How astounding, you can tell," the middle girl said. She looked down at the smaller child. "Who's that? Your little sister?" she asked.

"She certainly looks ugly enough for it, especially when those ears," the Tyrell on the right said. "Mayhap the Usurper decided to sleep with a Florent."

"Or just an ugly whore," the one on the left said. They all shared a giggle and Arya was really wanted to hit them. The smaller girl hid a little behind the bastard, still watching everything quietly. "So why are you here, bastard? Are you here to defend your fellow bastard?"

She did not answer, instead looking around the courtyard. She was searching for something but Arya didn't know who or what it was. But when the prince and his betrothed stepped out, she spoke. "Lady Margaery, a moment of your time, please?"

All three of the girls froze at those words and exchanged nervous glances as the prince and the betrothed came forward, one of the Kingsguard following silently behind them. "Yes, what do you need, Mya?" Margaery asked sounding vaguely annoyed at being called over like this. She looked just like the three girls, which marked her as a Tyrell. But she was different from them as she was older and looked much elegant. Arya didn't trust her for it. If she was a Tyrell, that just meant she would be just as mean.

"Could you please see to it that your cousins here have some brains beaten into them?" Mya asked, gesturing to the three Tyrell cousins. They and Sansa looked shocked at the suggestion but she approved.

"And why would I do that?"

"Because they insulted both the daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, the Lady Sansa, and also my cousin, Lady Shireen Baratheon," she answered. As she spoke, the shocked looks on the faces of the three Tyrells turned into ones of horror.

"Th-th-the Lady Sansa Stark?" the one on the left said. Her mouth was opened and looked it would not move. Arya was tempted to shut it for her and tell her to never open it again.

While the Tyrell on the right looked just as horrified, the middle one seemed to regain her wits. "So she's not a bastard. Instead she's a tr—"

"I would not finish that sentence if I were you, my lady," the prince said to her, his voice sharp like a sword. "She is the daughter of Lord Stark himself and as such, a higher pedigree then you. You insult yourself and your family by deriding her." He looked at his betrothed. "Margaery, perhaps you should do as suggested. I dare say your cousins will need it."

"As you say, my love," she said before turning to look at her cousins. "Come with me before you make this worse. We are going to speak with my grandmother." They didn't look like they wanted to do that but one look from her quelled them and they walked off.

When they were gone, Sansa finally broke. The tears finally began to pour down her cheeks as she began to sniffle. She turned back around. "Where are you going?" Arya asked her the second she turned.

"I…I have no wish to see the grounds," she said.

"But I can't go unless you go with me!" Mother had given them permission so long as they had gone together. If Sansa left now, she couldn't go.

"I'm sorry, Arya."

She was so stupid. Now she was being selfish as well. "Just because they insulted you, you can't go outside? Coward," she told her sister.

She couldn't even bother to try and say anything in reply. "Lady Sansa, my cousin is interested to hear about Winterfell from someone who has lived there," Mya said to her, cutting into the conversation. "Is there a chance you could take us to your lady mother?"

Sansa sniffed her tears back. "O-of course, please follow me."

"But what about me!?" demanded Arya. Stupid Sansa was ruining everything!

"If it pleases the lady, I will step in and walk with you," the prince said, making her look at him. He had the features of his father, the white hair and the purple eyes, and he wore his clothes in the colors of his house. His hair was straight and fell to the back of his neck. Sansa might've found him beautiful but she found that it made him look a bit girly.

"I'm not a lady," she snapped at him.

"But you are Arya Stark and therefore, a lady of noble birth. And I have an interest in seeing the grounds too." He sounded sincere in his words but Arya didn't know him. She would have to be careful.

"Yes, that will be fine. I thank you, Prince Aegon," Sansa told him through the tears. "Lady Shireen, if you will follow me." She walked back into the castle and the other two girls followed her.

" _Stupid Sansa!"_ thought Arya.

"She is something, isn't she?" the prince asked out loud.

"She's just being stupid," she replied.

He looked at her and asked, "Who?"

"Sansa," she answered.

"I was talking about Mya." There was something in his voice when he said those words. It made him sound like an idiot.

"Your Highness, you are betrothed," the Kingsguard said quietly.

"That wasn't my choice," he said back.

"She is a bastard."

"I don't care."

"What made you say that about Mya?" Arya asked him, curious to know.

"You saw what I saw, my lady. She managed to get your sister to lead the way back to your mother so that she can receive comfort and also so her cousin could satisfy her curiosity, while allowing her the chance to leave, all with a simple question."

Once he explained that, Arya could see it. He was right. It was impressive, but that wasn't what she was concerned with. "Come on, let's go." She started walking where she wanted to go. She took the lead as the prince and the Kingsguard followed.

They passed a large group of men all training. There were crests and banners everywhere and while she didn't know most of them, she knew that the moon-and-falcon one was for House Arryn. That must mean that these men were from the Vale. At the far end there was an old man wearing that same sigil watching all the others train.

"Lord Arryn is vigorous in his training," the Kingsguard remarked as they passed. When they had come into sight of the Valemen, he had shifted his position so that he stood between them and the prince.

"I have heard he has done more than that," the prince said. "He has gone out to the mountains and made peace with the clans who live there. They've sworn their allegiance to him." He looked up at where they were and found that they were standing at the entrance to the godswood. "Why are we?"

Arya ignored him. Instead, she whistled loudly, like Robb had shown her. It echoed through the air and the prince winced at it. "That's loud," he said when she was done. "Why did you do that?"

Her answer came running out of the godswood, up to her, and around her, sniffing her. "Nymeria, stop moving around so much," she told her wolf, trying to make her hold still.

"By the old gods and the new," the Kingsguard breathed as he stared at Nymeria. "The rumors were true. Ned's children have direwolves."

She turned to look at him when she heard those words. "You know my father?" she asked. Nymeria finally stopped moving and came to her side, watching the Kingsguard.

"Aye, I do. Has he not told you about me?"

"I don't know. It might help if I knew your name." That made the most sense to her.

Prince Aegon chuckled. "She has you there, ser."

He laughed too. "Aye that she does," he admitted. When he was done chuckling, he bowed his head to Arya. "My lady, my name is Mark Ryswell."

She knew of House Ryswell but not that name. "I'm not a lady," she told him. "That's Sansa."

He laughed again. "Yes, I can see that you're not a lady. You're more like your aunt."

"You knew my aunt?"

"No, I've only heard tales of her. But I knew her brother, your father, Lord Eddard Stark. I served with him beyond the Wall and when he sailed south."

She still didn't know the name but she did know that her father had sailed south once. "You were with him when he found Aunt Lyanna," she said to him as they walked away from the godswood and towards the ground, Nymeria by her side.

"Aye, I was."

"What happened?"

Even as he walked forward, he spared her a quick look. "Your father did not tell you?"

She shook her head. "He doesn't talk about what happened." The one time she remembered her and her siblings asking him about it, he told them all to leave it be in a very stern voice. It was one of the few times she had seen him use his "lord face" on them.

"Then it is not my place to say."

"Come on, Ser Mark. I am curious as to what happened at the Tower of Joy too," Prince Aegon said to him.

"It is still not my place, your Highness."

He looked at the Kingsguard with an annoyed expression. "And if I ordered you to tell us?"

Ser Mark looked pained. "Prince Aegon—"

"I wish to have an answer, ser," he replied, coming to a stop. "If I order you to tell us, will you?"

"…I would answer, your Highness." Arya could tell that he didn't want to. The prince should just leave him be. But there was a part of her that wanted to know too.

She waited for Prince Aegon to say the words. He didn't disappoint. "Then tell us, ser," he commanded as he started walking again.

Ser Mark looked one way and then the next. Why, Arya didn't know. _"Perhaps he's making sure that we are alone?"_ she asked herself. It seemed a little childish for him to do that. He was a Kingsguard, why would he have to look around like that, especially when they were currently alone?

"This is not a joyful or adventurous story," he began. "After the wilding threat had been stopped, Lord Stark turned his army around and headed south to join Lords Baratheon and Arryn. But by the time we had reached Winterfell, news had come from the south of the rout at the Trident, of Robert roaring for Rhaegar but receiving only arrows, of Lord Arryn bending the knee when he realized that the battle was lost. But there was a message telling Lord Stark of his sister's whereabouts. Knowing that bringing an army would only announce his presence, he instead took five companions and rode for White Harbor."

"Were you one of those companions?" Arya asked him, her voice betraying her excitement at the entirety of it.

"Aye, I was. We sailed from White Harbor down the Narrow Sea until it became summer. We sailed around the Broken Arm of Dorne and then into Dorne. When we could not sail anymore, we rode. We rode until we found where the Lady Lyanna was: the Tower of Joy. The sun was high in the sky and hot as we rode up to the tower. Before the door stood three of the Kingsguard, Ser Oswell Whent, Ser Arthur Dayne, and the Lord Commander, Ser Gerold Hightower.

"Did you fight?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No, we did not. I think that if we had, there would be fewer of us left."

"Then what happened?"

"Are you sure you wish to know?"

"Continue the story, Ser Mark," Prince Aegon commanded. They were outside the castle proper and on their way to the grounds. The path between the two had more people going towards the grounds rather than the castle. They walked a little ways away from the others so that they may have a sense of privacy (although the armor of the Kingsguard and the direwolf did not help).

"Lord Stark rode forward first. He announced himself and demanded his sister. Ser Gerold said that she was resting and would not be disturbed. Lord Stark asked that they stand aside so that he might see Lady Lyanna. Again, the Lord Commander said that she was resting and would not be disturbed. It seemed that we would draw our swords and fight. But then, somehow, the tower was caught on fire."

Both she and the prince stopped to look at him. "Caught fire?" Prince Aegon repeated.

"Aye," he simply said.

"How could that be?"

"As I have said, my prince, we did not know. Before any one of could do anything about it, the tower was ablaze, burning so brightly that none of us could get close in fear of being burned. Lord Stark had to be restrained by his companions to prevent him from racing into the tower. We stood there, watching hopelessly as the tower burned. It had been seen and aid had been sent quickly. The fire had been doused quickly but we all knew that it was too late."

He fell silent again. The story didn't feel right ending like that, so Arya asked him, "What of my aunt?"

"We found her remains when the fire died, hers and her daughter."

"Her, her daughter?" the prince repeated. Arya was just as stunned. Even Nymeria seemed to be so too, letting out a confused yip.

"Yes, her daughter. Lady Lyanna was pregnant." His face became pained for a moment and then it vanished. "I will speak no more on this. I fear I've said too much already."

"…Yes, you might have."

They kept walking to the tourney ground. The air about them was somber and serious. Now Arya knew why her father never spoke anything about the war. She wouldn't want to talk about it either, especially the way he told it. It wasn't like any kind of story she had heard before, not the stories Old Nan told or the songs that Sansa loved to listen to. The knight told it to them in a voice that full of emotions she couldn't understand.

But when they started walking in the tourney grounds, the air around them lightened. They saw men from all over the Seven Kingdoms. Arya saw men from the North, the Cerwyn axe, Karstark sun, Umber giant, Glover mailed fist, and others too. But for every sigil of the North she saw, she saw five more from the south. She saw roses, turtles, suns, bees, arrows, bulls, lions, birds, and many more.

As they walked and looked, the prince chuckled. "My lady, if your eyes grow any wider, they might just pop right out of your head," he told her as they walked between the tents, on their way to the tourney grounds to see what has been done.

"I'm not a lady," she told him back.

"You are the daughter of Lord Stark. By that name alone, you are a lady."

"I am not a lady. I'm just Arya. I don't want to be a stupid lady."

"Then what do you want to be?" he asked her, amused curiosity coloring his voice.

"A knight," she declared.

He laughed at that. "You're a girl."

"So?"

"Girls can't be knights." They came to a stop in front of a tent. He stood in front of her and looked down at her. She returned his gaze determinedly. Nymeria sat on her hunches and watched them both.

"That's stupid. Girls can fight as well as boy." She had seen Jack's cousins train in the yard when the Mormonts had come to Winterfell once. Dacey had even offered to teach her a few things on how to handle a mace. If Mother hadn't come by at that moment, she would've gladly said yes. And she had seen Osha wield a spear.

"No, they can't."

"My prince…" Ser Mark began. He was obviously going to try and say something in the prince's defense.

Arya wouldn't let him, even if he knew Father before. "Yes, they can. I've seen girls fight."

"They don't fight. They grow up to be ladies."

"That's not true!"

"Of course it's true!"

The flap of the tent they stood in front opened and out stepped a woman. "What is the meaning of this?" she asked them, her eyes sweeping over them all. She saw the white armor of the Kingsguard and then the prince. With wide eyes, she knelt to the ground. "Your Highness."

The prince looked at her for a long second. Arya just smirked in triumph. The woman kneeling wasn't wearing a dress. She was wearing boy's clothes and had a sword at her side. She had just proven what Arya had been saying. "Rise," the prince finally said and she did so. "What is your name, my lady?"

"Brienne of Tarth, my prince," she answered. Now that she was standing up, Arya could actually see her and could see that she was as tall as Ser Mark, if not taller. But she also wasn't pretty like Sansa was. In fact, Arya would call her ugly.

"And why are you here at Riverrun?"

Her face showed her confusion. "I am here to participate in the tourney."

"Oh…um, very well," he said, stumbling a little. "May you fight well and earn glory."

"Ha, see?" Arya said to him. "Girls can be knights and I will be the greatest one there is!" She wouldn't be a lady anymore!

To her surprise, the prince laughed and said "If you can do that, I will let you become one of my Kingsguard when I ascend the Iron Throne."

"Really?" she asked him instantly. "You promise?"

His laughter fell silent and he looked surprised for a moment. But then the surprise vanished. "Aye, I promise."

"Swear it on the gods." An oath to the gods was always held and kept.

"I swear to the old gods and the new that I, Prince Aegon Targaryen, will appoint Arya Stark to my Kingsguard should she become the greatest knight in the lands."

"I, Ser Mark Ryswell, have seen and witness this promise," the Kingsguard declared solemnly. She just grinned in victory. She had a goal now. She wouldn't have to be a stupid lady if she was in the Kingsguard.

But she was so caught up in her glow of victory that she didn't noticed that the prince and his Kingsguard were leaving until they were almost gone. "Hey, wait!" she called after them but they didn't stop.

"My lady Stark," the woman standing in front of the tent spoke, getting her attention.

She felt embarrassed, having forgotten about her. "I'm not a lady," she replied automatically.

"Have you swung a sword before?"

The question surprised her. "What?"

"Have you swung a sword before?" the woman ( _"Brienne, her name is Brienne,"_ Arya reminded herself) asked again.

"I've sparred with my brothers in the training yard," she answered.

"With an actual sword?" she asked.

"No."

"I see."

"See what?" Arya didn't know what she was going on about and it was getting annoying.

"Follow me, if you would." She turned around and started back to her tent, a small drab thing really.

"Why?"

She turned back around and looked at her. "You want to be the greatest knight in all the lands? You won't be able to do it unless someone teaches you."

Again she was surprised but quickly became happy. "You're not japing?" She really was hoping that she wasn't. That would be too cruel of a prank to play.

"No, I'm not. Come on. The wolf stays outside." She disappeared back into the tent. After telling Nymeria to stay, Arya went in after her. After leaving the tent hours later, she had sore arms, was completely exhausted and knew about how to unstrap a gauntlet then she would've thought possible. But there was a smile on her face that nothing could make it come off.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

The Tyrell girls made assumptions about Sansa. They assumed that since she was a redhead with blue eyes, and that since she wasn't dressed as fashionably as they were, she was Edmure Tully's bastard daughter. Edmure is known to drink and wench, so the conclusion isn't that far off. It just got them into trouble when they made the assumption and paid for it.

Ser Mark Ryswell stayed in King's Landing when they docked there for supplies and to announce what happened at the Tower of Joy to the king. As for why he's on the Kingsguard, I'm maintaining that Ser Jon Darry died at the Trident and Rhaegar chose him over any others (there might've been a guilt-trip involved).

I would like to thank the author Salamon2 and his series "Rise and Fall of the Baratheons" for the idea of the Arryns making peace with the mountain clans. I simply put in Jon Arryn instead of Denys Arryn. It's a good idea and I wonder to see how it goes in his story. But for me, I'll probably just have a clansman be a good friend of Harry Hardying.

I'll see you next chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 7: Catelyn

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

The feast in the evening was no less spectacular then the one her family had walked into. Only this time they were there from the start. They had followed in after the royal family, House Martell, and her father's house. The other houses followed them in and the feast then began.

Catelyn sat at the high table, sitting next all of her children. She cast a look at her eldest daughter. Even though she acted like nothing happened, Catelyn could still see the tears on Sansa's face as she came back to her room with two other girls. She was given the story quickly and was angry. The elder of the two girls had offered to take a message to the Tyrells demanding an apology for the insult and she had accepted. It was to her horror that she learned the girl had been the bastard of Robert Baratheon himself.

She had not known the man personally, only meeting him once at Harrenhal during its tourney. He had been a man who seemed to enjoy life and its pleasures, with muscles that made maidens watch him intently when he moved, along with his black hair, clean shaven face, and blue eyes. She knew that Ned was his closest friend but that was the extent of it. Her lord husband did not like to talk about him or the Rebellion. She granted him that but it left her unaware of Robert's bastard daughter.

Her cousin, Lady Shireen Baratheon, had told her a little about her. What was truly shocking to Catelyn was that the bastard of the Usurper was the personal handmaiden to Princess Rhaenys. Why would the king do such a thing? It would've been best to leave her where she had been, out of sight and out of mind. But now, her father's shadow hung over her wherever she went.

But what truly made her nervous was how in the short time that they seemed to be together, Sansa had been close to the bastard. Catelyn had been glad when she had left but the nervousness didn't disappear. It stayed when she saw the slightly saddened look on her daughter's face as the door to her rooms had closed.

She did not know what to do. Should she let this potential friendship bloom? _"It would be Ned and Robert come again,"_ a part of her whispered in her mind. That much was true and she was certain that Ned knew of her, so he would not be too surprised. But then there was the fact that she was a bastard. That fact alone should exempt her from being a friend of Sansa. There were ladies of better pedigree to fill that role.

The thoughts of Robert's bastard made her turned to look down the rest of the high table to see if she was there. She could not see her and so turned her attention to the tables below. She found the Baratheon table but did not find her there. She did find her cousin sitting there. Shireen had been a bright child curious about Winterfell, having read about it. Catelyn was only too glad to tell her about it.

Her eyes also found Shireen's father. Stannis was a stern man, one could tell just by looking at his expression. Catelyn did not think he had rarely smiled before the rebellion and did not afterwards. His younger brother was different and she had heard people say that Renly looked like Robert when he was still alive. Whereas his brother did not laugh, Renly did. He did so gaily and loudly with the lords of the Stormlands, although his gaze kept slipping over to the Tyrell table.

She followed his gaze and found Margaery Tyrell sitting beside her brother. _"Is he in love with her?"_ she asked herself. She hoped that wasn't it. Margaery was to marry the crown prince. If Renly tried to claim her, there could be another rebellion. If there was one, the Riverlands would be devastated from attacks on both sides. The North would most likely stay out of it but her homeland would suffer.

She tore herself away from such thoughts and continued to look for Robert's bastard. Still, she could not find her. Her gaze paused as she looked at the Martell table, close to the high table. Arianne Martell was there representing her father along with her brother Quentyn. They sat as far apart, which seemed odd since they were sitting next to one another. But she kept looking up at the high table, for what Catelyn didn't know.

Their uncle was there too, with his lover and his bastard children, all eight of them. Even in the North, they had heard some tales of the Sand Snakes. She had thought them to be just that, tales. But they were not and she found that the elder Snakes were condescending and rude to all whom they did not like. What made it worse was that their father did nothing to curb them.

But they were not the reason she had looked upon them. She did not see one bastard in particular. _"Where is she?"_ she asked herself.

She kept looking around for Jocelyn Sand and found her on the other side of the high table, right beside the princess. Catelyn froze for a second, just staring at the two of them talking with one another like she and Lysa had once talked. She had thought she made herself clear to Jocelyn to not embarrass her father's house anymore and yet, she was talking to Princess Rhaenys and sitting at the high table like she belong there.

"Is something amiss, Lady Stark?" the dowager queen asked her. They were sitting beside one another. One might've said that they were the dividing line between the royal family and her own.

"Nothing, your Grace," she replied politely. "I am just surprised to find Jocelyn up here at the high table." She hadn't been there when they sat down.

"That is not surprising. She and Rhaenys had been the closet of friends when they were children."

"I…see." That was all she could say as she stared at Jocelyn and saw Ashara Dayne. She had thought that one bastard in Winterfell was enough to deal with. But riders carrying the banners of Starfall approached the castle, bringing Jocelyn to them. Ned had met them in the courtyard, looked at her once, and brought her into the Great Hall so that she could have something warm to eat. That was where she and her children had met her.

Catelyn had known about her husband and Ashara meeting in Harrenhal but had thought nothing of it. She had been betrothed to his brother, Brandon, then and did not give him much thought. The next time they had met was when she had sailed to White Harbor. They had married and consummated the marriage before he sailed away for Dorne. He came back to her half a year later with a bastard while she carried his child.

She always had her suspicions about Jon Snow, about where he came from and who his mother was. They had all but been confirmed when Jocelyn Sand had come to Winterfell. She had not said anything to her husband, figuring that she knew enough of the answers. In silence she watched Jocelyn grow from girl to woman. She was every bit the perfect southern lady, if not for her temper and attitude, treating herself as if she was above her own station. That would be the Dornish in her.

Thinking about one bastard made her think on the other, which in turn made her search for him. "Who are you looking for, Lady Stark?" the dowager queen asked her.

"My husband's other bastard," she replied, still looking throughout the hall. But she could not see him. She hoped that he would stay away from the feast. He might've come to Riverrun but that did not mean she would tolerate his presence any less. She did not find him easily. It took her a good couple of minutes to find him sitting with the squares at their tables.

It seemed that Queen Rhaella saw him too. "Why does he sit amongst them? Is he a squire?" she asked her.

"Perhaps he could not find a better table to sit at," she replied shortly. It was not like there would be a table for bastards alone at a feast, let alone a royal one.

"At least, he seems to be enjoying the feast. I cannot say the same for your husband's ward," she remarked before taking a sip from her goblet.

Catelyn turned her eyes to Theon and where he sat. Since it was revealed that his sister was here and would be attending the feast, she had told him to sit with her as was his place. While Jon Snow looked to be enjoying the feast, Theon looked miserable. He sat beside his sister but she was more interested in talking to her crew then her own blood.

Personally, Catelyn did not think highly of Asha Greyjoy. She found her loud, rude, and unable to act like a lady. A heartbeat later and she realized that she had once said the same thing about Osha and now, she would trust the wilding woman with the lives of her children. But excuses could be made for Osha. She was a wilding from beyond the Wall. She did not know how women were to act. Asha did and she did not. She dressed in men's clothing and behaved so.

But what was the worst was that she was ignoring her own blood. She talked to her own men then Theon. Whenever he tried to speak, the rest of the ironmen did not reply. He was an outcast amidst his own people. It was not right. _"These are ironmen,"_ she reminded herself. _"They are pirates at best and savages fouler than the wildings at worse."_

A loud roar of laughter came from the ironmen's table. When she looked again, it seemed to be directed at the Tyrell table and silence reigned in the hall for a moment. Lord Mace's youngest son stood up with anger in his eyes. If he had a sword at his side, he might've drawn it then and there. But then his eldest brother reached out and grabbed hold of his arm. "Loras, sit down," he said quietly, yet his voice could be heard throughout.

"Brother, you heard them," Loras replied, anger coursing through his voice.

"I did. Sit down."

"I cannot. Not after the insult they've given us." He tried to move around the table.

But his brother's grip kept him. "What will you do, Loras? We are in the middle of a feast where there are no weapons. Do you intend to strike Lady Greyjoy with your hands? Sit down. The insult was done to me, not to our house."

"You would dare to let this go, Willas?" he demanded, his anger still hot. "I will not let this pass. I cannot, not for—"

"Loras, you will sit down and be silent or I will send you back to Highgarden this very night." He did not raise his voice anymore then he already had and yet, all eyes widened at his threat. Catelyn was certain she had heard more than a few ladies gasp. This was not surprising. The Knight of Flowers was a favorite in the tourney events. To have him dismissed before the tourney actually began would be madness. The only time she had seen it done was when the Mad King ordered Ser Jaime Lannister to King's Landing from Harrenhal.

Ser Loras looked at his eldest brother with shock and outrage, but he eventually sat down. As he did, Willas stood. He leaned on his cane as he stood and faced the ironmen. "My lady," he said politely to Asha Greyjoy, "I cannot honestly tell you if there are limp flowers in the Reach. All I have seen have stood tall. I also must thank you."

"For what?" she asked him, arrogance bleeding out from her voice and her posture.

"You've managed to answer a question of mine I have long pondered. You see, I have wondered if bitches could adapt to the sea."

The hall was still silent as he sat back down. Then Queen Rhaella's sworn shield threw his head back and laughed loudly. It was a loud bark of a laugh that echoed in her father's hall and was soon picked up by the rest of the hall. Everyone laughed at the ironmen, even her own children. While she did not laugh, there was a slight smile on her lips at the insult the Tyrell heir delivered.

Out of all those who had laughed, the Dornish had laughed the hardest. And out of all the Dornish, the Red Viper and his daughters had laughed the hardest. The ironmen looked enraged as they stared at the entire hall. But Theon was watching the Dornish group. When the laughter finally died once more, he spoke out. "I do not see what is so humorous. We ironborn have always known that dogs and bitches can adapt to the seas. What I find to be humorous is that snakes that tried to be fearsome and threatening can't hold their stomachs once they're on a ship. They seemed content to be either emptying their stomachs over the side or resting in their bunks, acting like they are going to die." He looked at the eldest of the Sand Snakes. "Wouldn't you agree, Lady Bilge Rat?"

This time, it was Viserys who laughed the loudest. He threw his head back and howled his laughter to the ceiling. The rest of the hall laughed again, this time with the laughter directed at the Dornish and at the Red Viper's eldest. Even the ironmen laughed but they still ignored Theon, whose hopeful smile died quickly away.

" _Ned taught you better than that, Theon,"_ Catelyn thought to herself. _"One does not endear themselves to others by making sport of people."_

"What gives my son cause to laugh?" the dowager queen asked aloud. "Until now, he has never met Obara."

Catelyn found herself obligated to answer. "He might've when he and Theon had gone out to sea."

She turned her head to look at her, surprise clear on her face. "What did you say, Lady Stark?"

"Theon had been telling the prince about the sea and what little sailing he had done. It was enough for Prince Viserys to ride out to White Harbor with him and get aboard a ship. By the time Lord Manderly had sent us a raven, they were on a ship set for Dorne. When they returned to Winterfell six months later, they did not speak of what happened during their adventures. But we have been informed that they did not have positions on the ship as befitting their rank."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I have been told that they pretended to be common boys who wished to be on the ship and were treated as such. But I think they had preferred it like that. Prince Viserys seemed to be enchanted by the sea because of his trip. He will most likely try to set sail when he comes of age."

"And have you and your husband made plans for that?" Queen Rhaella asked her as the laughter finally died down. The Martells, or at least most of them, looked outraged in their seats.

Edmure stood up from his chair. "My lords and ladies, I feel that we have had much laughter and not enough music. We should correct this." A hearty cheer came from the tables, showing the approval of the idea.

"My lord uncle," Robb said, "allow me to begin correcting this oversight with a good Northern song."

" _Oh no,"_ Catelyn thought. She had a feeling about what song he would want to play. She wasn't the only one. Sansa already looked partially horrified and Arya was leaning forward eagerly.

"Of course, Robb," her brother said grandly. "Tell our bards what the song is, I am sure they can play it."

"Thank you, uncle. But I believe that we will be able to play the song better than the bards." He looked down at the Northern tables. "Dom?" he called out the Bolton heir.

Young Domeric simply sighed with a resignation. "Very well," he conceded. He stood up from the bench and the rest of the Pack (excluding Prince Viserys and Theon) stood with him. They all walked over to the bards with Robb joining them. Everyone who did not know them watched in fasciation as they took the instruments they required and began checking them. They were even more surprised when Torrhen and Morgan brought out the bagpipes. She had been too, the first time she had heard it. The south never did consider it a proper instrument.

A minute of checking their instruments passed before they started the beat. It began as a simple drum beat but soon swell into something more. When the bagpipes joined in, it truly blossomed into a song. Everyone watched as the Pack played and then begin to sing.

 _Axes flash, broadsword swing,  
Shining armour's piercing ring  
Horses run with polished shield,  
Fight Those Bastards till They Yield  
Midnight mare and blood red roan,  
Fight to Keep this Land Your Own  
Sound the horn and call the cry,  
How Many of Them Can We Make Die!_

 _Follow orders as you're told,  
Make Their Yellow Blood Run Cold  
Fight until you die or drop,  
A Force Like Ours is Hard to Stop  
Close your mind to stress and pain,  
Fight till You're No Longer Sane  
Let not one damn cur pass by,  
How Many of Them Can We Make Die!_

 _Guard your women and children well,  
Send These Bastards Back to Hell  
We'll teach them the ways of war,  
They Won't Come Here Any More  
Use your shield and use your head,  
Fight till Every One is Dead  
Raise the flag up to the sky,  
How Many of Them Can We Make Die!_

 _Dawn has broke, the time has come,  
Move Your Feet to a Marching Drum  
We'll win the war and pay the toll,  
We'll Fight as One in Heart and Soul  
Midnight mare and blood red roan,  
Fight to Keep this Land Your Own  
Sound the horn and call the cry,  
How Many of Them Can We Make Die!_

 _Axes flash, broadsword swing,  
Shining armour's piercing ring  
Horses run with polished shield,  
Fight Those Bastards till They Yield  
Midnight mare and blood red roan,  
Fight to Keep this Land Your Own  
Sound the horn and call the cry,  
How Many of Them Can We Make Die!_

 _How Many of Them Can We Make Die!_

 _How Many of Them Can We Make Die!_

The song ended with one last resounding beat of the drum. When it was done, the northern lords, who had been pounding away on their tables as the song began, burst into loud applause. There were roars and cheers of approval too. Even Prince Viserys and her children joined in (Sansa more quietly and courteously then the rest). The rest of the hall just stared at them.

Catelyn could not blame them for their reactions. The first time she had that song and its like, she had been stunned and horrified. It had been no song sung by a bard about knights of honor, gentle maidens, or no great tale. It had been a song that was basic and honest, of what they would do to their enemies in battle.

She had been horrified at first and wished to never hear it again. But she did and as the years passed, she found that she actually like the Northern songs. They were no great song of the south but there was a feeling to them that made her want to listen and clap along. Only her dignity of her being the lord's sister stopped her from doing so when the Pack played.

"Um, thank you, Robb," Edmure said to her son. He was unsure of what to say or how to say it. But he continued on. "That was quite the song that we have all heard. I believe that I can speak for the entirety of the south when I say that is a new song to our ears."

"Then it's time you lot some good songs for once!" yelled out Smalljon Umber. The men of the North roared in approval of his words.

Possibly to the surprise of everyone, Prince Viserys stood up and spoke. "While I heartily agree with you, Jon, I am quite certain that 'the Bear and the Maiden Fair' came from the south! Besides, your blowing on that horn can't really be called music! More like the braying of a dying mule!" Again, the men of the North laughed, Smalljon and his father loudest among them.

But as the laughter died away, the Pack was convinced to put aside the instruments and let the bards and singers take their proper place again. The music started again and it was songs that were well known in the south and the North too. Lords and ladies began to stand up from their chairs, eager to dance.

Prince Viserys was one of the people who stood. The Martells looked eager when he did but it turned to surprise when he walked to Sansa and held out his hand. "My lady, would you honor me with this dance?" he asked her.

Sansa blushed prettily but accepted. She took his hand and stood up from the table. Prince Aegon looked around the hall, obviously looking for something or someone. Catelyn thought that he did not find it when he finally stood and offered his betrothed the same offer his uncle had offer her daughter. He had said the same words with a charm that came easily, but Catelyn thought that there was something in his eyes. It was something hollow, as if he was saying those words because it was expected of him and nothing else.

As Catelyn watched the lords and ladies stand for the dance, she saw that they were the older ones, men and women who were married to one another or could be close friends. The younger men were all moving around and asking the young ladies if they wished to dance but they were all politely refused. They were all looking around the room for something, she didn't know what.

" _What are they waiting for?"_ she asked herself. They have a room of young men wanting their hands in this dance. If she had been their age, she would not refuse the offers. It was puzzling as to why they were doing this.

But then Jon Snow stood from his seat and all their eyes found him. And when their eyes found him, so did the rest of the hall. Catelyn frowned when she saw this happen. _"What has he done to earn this?"_ she asked silently. She watched him as he looked around the hall, seeing all the eyes on him. Would he gloat and relish on the attention? Bastards rarely did.

He surprised her, though. He hunched his shoulders, lowered his head, and began to leave the hall at a quick pace. He did not meet any eyes as he walked. She approved of that. He knew his place. "Where are you going, Jon Snow?" Princess Rhaenys asked him, standing up from her seat.

He stopped when she spoke. He turned slowly to look at her but kept his gaze to the floor. "I…I was going to practice my swordplay, your Highness," he said quietly.

Catelyn heard some of the lords and ladies snigger and chuckle at his words. She did nothing about it but she did feel a slight surge of anger at their hidden implications. Jon Snow was not what they thought. He was honest, so much that he reminded her of Ned.

The princess walked from her chair and down through the middle of the hall. The way she walked seemed brazen to Catelyn but no others felt the same way. All the men watched as she sauntered down to the bastard. "There will be time for practicing your skills with the blade later," she told him as she came to a stop before him. "For now, come and dance with me." She held her hand her to him.

He looked at the hand and then at her again. "Your Highness, there are men of better birth that should dance with you," he said to her.

"Are you telling me what to do, Jon Snow?" she asked, cracking her voice like a whip.

"No, your Highness," he replied, looking away from her.

"Good. Now I will tell you want I want you to do: I want you to dance with me." She still held out the hand to him.

He looked at it again and started to step back. Catelyn though that he would refuse, that he would turn away from the princess and walk out of the hall like he had meant to do. But then one of the squares he had been sitting with reached out with his hand and stopped Jon Snow. That same hand gave him a firm push to the princess. He stumbled stepping forward and almost fell to the floor, making the squires laugh at him.

But he regained his balance and stood before the princess. They were completely contrasted to one another, it showed in how they stood and faced each other. She had the olive skin of Dorne whilst he had the pale skin of the North. She looked like a true Martell, despite being a dragon's daughter, and he looked like a Stark, despite being born on the wrong side of the sheets.

It was only after he took her hand and they began to dance, leading the hall, Catelyn stood up from her chair. "Is something the matter, Lady Catelyn?" Rhaella asked her.

"Nothing, I've just noticed that my youngest is becoming tired." It was a partial lie. She picked up Rickon and held him against her. He protested slightly and yet, placed his head against her shoulder almost instantly. She swept out of her father's hall, refusing to glance at the bastard dancing with the princess or notice the anger in the eyes of the young ladies there.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

The son is called the March of Cambreadth and it is a hell of a song to listen. It is again played by Heather Alexander and I would suggest it to anyone who wants to hear a good Celtic song.

Going on that, I think it's a safe analogue to compare the First Men to the Celts and the Andals to the Romans and/or the Anglos. One got there first; the other got there second and proceeded to conquer the first, but was unable to do so fully. It's why I had the bagpipes be a Northern instrument.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 8: Rhaenys

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

She could have said that she did not know why she felt like she needed to go to the godswood in the morning. She could've said that she wanted to know what it felt like to pray to the old gods. She could have said either of or any number of things but the truth of the matter was quite simple: she wanted to see Jon Snow again.

She danced with him only once the previous night and it was all she could think of now. She had tried to sleep but got little, tossing around in her bed. When she did sleep, all she could dream was of him. She could still feel the touch of his fingers against her skin, deliciously cool. His brown hair had framed his face nicely with curls that were begging to be touched by her fingers. His grey eyes watched her as they danced, curious yet guarded. She knew that he had questions he wanted to ask but did not. She wanted him to ask those questions, to have those eyes lose their guard. But he didn't and when the dance was done, he left the hall.

She was disappointed but she held the first victory in the game. All the other girls couldn't even touch him as he walked out of the hall. He shouldn't have done that, it wasn't proper in the game, but it made her victory sweeter. Now it made her want him more. When the sun rose, she rose with it, evading Mya as she walked out of her chambers. She strode through Riverrun, intent on going to the godswood. Behind her walked Jocelyn. It was from her she learned where Jon Snow slept. She had learned from some other ladies, but the princess did not care about that.

"Rhaenys, there will be plenty of time to see him around when it is a proper time," Jocelyn said. She was still waking up and was more than vaguely annoyed that her bedmate had roused her at such an early hour.

"By then the others will surround him like vultures on a corpse," she replied. No, if she wanted a chance to see him alone, now was the time. Once she found him in the godswood, she would send Jocelyn away.

"I believe that's called fair play," her friend told her as they stepped out into the courtyard and headed for the gate leading into the godswood. "You must let the others have their turn with him." They weren't alone in the courtyard, the servants already going about their duties and chores. But they wore cloaks and hoods over their dresses. No one took real notice of them.

"They just want to win the game and would do anything to do it."

"And you don't?" she asked with more than a hint of amusement in her voice.

She stopped in her tracks, holding her foot over a trunk of a tree burrowing its way into the ground. "No," she said. She didn't look back at Jocelyn. She started moving again.

Jocelyn followed her, she heard that much. "Rhaenys, this is just a game," she said as they walked through the woods.

"It's not to me." She might've suggested it as such, but it wasn't a game to her. Not now.

"You barely know Jon."

"And I wish to know him more now. Do not argue with me, Jocelyn. Just let me know where it is he is sleeping," she declared with authority that came with being a Targaryen princess.

She heard an annoyed sound from her friend but not turn around to see her make it. But she did stop at the next tree and waited for her. The sight she found herself looking at was pretty enough. The godswood here in Riverrun reminded her of the one in King's Landing. The trees provided shade that mottled the sun's light onto the bark and leaves. Above her head the birds began their rousing or already flew through the air, making it come alive with their cries. The only thing that was missing was the smell of the sea.

It didn't take long for Jocelyn to catch up to her side. "You are very stubborn and annoying," she told her.

"Aegon's told me that before," she said without thought. Her brother always claimed it made her more of a Martell than a Targaryen. But he was wrong; she was a dragon just like he was. And what a dragon wants, a dragon has. "Now, shall we keep moving already?"

"Yes, yes, lead on."

They continued on through the godswood, crossing over roots burrowed halfway into the ground and burbling little streams. Flowers were in full bloom, filling the air with a pleasant aroma. Rhaenys made a private note to herself to have some of those flowers harvested and brought back to King's Landing to see if they could be made into perfume. But that wasn't a pressing matter. She had to find Jon Snow.

She found him sleeping against the trunk of the heart tree. She stopped and looked at him closely. There, with his head resting against the white bark of the tree, his face didn't have any of the solemnness or guarded expressions she saw on him as they danced. There, at that moment, he looked more like a boy than a man. But there was some sadness there even as he slept. It was just there on his face, an almost sad expression that lingered on his face. She didn't know why but she was willing to find out.

Jocelyn was at her side but didn't say anything. When she finally took a step forward to the heart tree, she heard the growl of one of the direwolves. She looked down and saw a grey-haired one standing before her, watching her with golden eyes. The growl wasn't loud or threatening, more like a warning.

She took the step back but Jocelyn looked at the direwolf. "What are you doing here, Nymeria?" she asked, pulling her hood down. The wolf stopped the growling but turned its attention to her. "Go away, go back to Arya."

"She's named Nymeria?" Rhaenys asked with amusement. Her cousin would probably hate it, sharing a name with a wolf.

"Arya loves warrior women," her friend said in way of explanation. "Go away, Nymeria," she told the direwolf again. She took the step forward and this time, the black direwolf appeared by its sister's side. "Shaggydog, what are you doing here?"

Rhaenys would've asked who would name their pet Shaggydog if she hadn't heard the youngest Stark boy call for it when they had arrived. The two direwolves stared them down, gold and green eyes watching them intently. When she tried stepping forward again, the growling intensified. She stopped and so did the growling. She found confusing. "What are they doing?" she asked Jocelyn.

"I'm not sure, but they are being annoying," she replied. She took a step forward and waved a harsh hand through the air at him. "Go away, you two. Go run in the woods." But the wolves did not move. "Go!" They didn't move.

"I don't think you're not enough of a Stark for them to listen to you, Joce," Rhaenys said with a hint of smile.

Jocelyn might've said something or glared at her for that comment if she wasn't so focused on the wolves. "Go away, you two! Shoo already." But the two direwolves did not move. They would not move. Her friend was getting more and more irritated with second passing them by. She kept waving at them and urging to them leave but they wouldn't. "Argh, I despise these gods-damned wolves," she growled.

"Perhaps an easier touch would be needed?"

"They were growling at you, not me, Rhaenys."

"I think I just need to explain myself to them." She had a feeling that the wolves were smart enough to understand what they were saying. If she spoke to them, they might just let them pass. She knelt down to their level, lowering her hood and looking at them in their own eyes. "Would you be so kind as to let us pass?" she asked them, putting all the charm she had into her voice. "I only wish to speak with Jon Snow."

It didn't have the desired effect. In fact, she would say the opposite was closer. The black wolf might've leapt out and snapped his teeth at her if his sister hadn't been at his side. She nipped him in his side and he stayed put. Behind them, Jon Snow shifted in his sleep. His face shifted into an expression that was worrisome. A single word escaped his lips, "Mother." It was faint but it hung in the air.

Both Rhaenys and Jocelyn looked at him at the sound of the word. "Why does he say that word?" the princess asked the bastard.

"I don't know," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Don't you share the same mother?" It made sense to her.

But now Jocelyn looked uneasy. "It's not something that we've discussed up at Winterfell. Lord Stark did not speak of it and Lady Stark would not remember it." There was bitterness in her voice as she spoke about Lord Stark's wife. Rhaenys was no fool. She had seen the way that Lady Catelyn had looked at both Jocelyn and Jon. She looked at them like she wished that they did not exist. It angered her. Jocelyn was her friend and Jon…Jon was something she would have soon.

When they turned back to look at Jon Snow, a third direwolf had joined them. This one, Rhaenys knew, having met Ghost before. The albino was slightly bigger than its siblings and watched her with its blood-red eyes. Jocelyn groaned slightly at the sight of it. "Not you too, Ghost. Would you just go away?" she demanded.

But the wolf didn't move at her command. It just kept watching Rhaenys. To her, it felt like the wolf was waiting for her to make the first move. So she obliged him. "May I speak to your master?" she asked it.

The albino looked back at its master still sleeping against the heart tree. Again, he wore only a tunic and pants. There were no boots on his feet (those were nearby) so she could see its pale flesh splayed out in his sleep. The clothes were quite shoddy but to her eye they looked like they were cast-offs. That could be why they were shoddy, or it might just be because he was sleeping in the open against the heart tree.

When Ghost looked back at her, it tilted its head slightly to the right. She took that as a question and went with it. "I just only wish to talk to him." What they would be talking about would be something else entirely.

Her answer seemed to please the albino. It muscled its way in between its siblings and urged them away with nips in their fur. When the black one whined in protest, it nipped again harder. The two other direwolves disappeared into the godswood, leaving them alone before the heart tree.

Ghost padded up to its master and gave him a rough lick across the face. It took a few attempts but Jon eventually came awake. "What is it, Ghost?" he asked as he wiped the tongue spit off of his face with one hand while with the other, he reached for the boots. When he finally looked up and saw her standing there, his eyes widened in surprise. If it had been any other person, she might've giggled at the reaction. But for him, she held it in. "Your Highness," he said, stumbling slightly with those two word.

"Jon Snow, you left the feast early," she remarked, staring down at him. "You left quite the number of ladies upset."

"Up-upset?" he repeated, clearly confused by what she was saying.

"Yes, many of them wish to have what I have."

"Oh." His confusion vanished and the guarded expression she had seen on him before was back. He went back to what he was doing, putting the boots on his feet. When he was done, he looked past her. "Jocelyn, what are you doing here?"

"I am here so you don't do anything to the princess."

"Jocelyn, there is no need to be rude to your brother," Rhaenys told her, lightly chastising. She scowled in reply but didn't actually say anything to her.

"Your Highness, is there something you require of me?" Jon Snow asked her, bringing her attention back to him. He stood up before her, matching her in height even though she was his elder. His tunic and hose were dark in color and slightly dirty with leaves, sticks, and the odd clump of dirt.

"I require many things of you, Jon Snow," she told him with a little smile on her lips. She had used that smile on men and boys before. She knew it was enough to make men who were old enough to have seen her born and boys who could barely grow even the faintest of facial hairs pause and look at her with barely restrained breaths and eyes that followed her when she left. She had practiced and perfected it on her brother before she moved to other people.

She could see the bobbing of his throat when he looked at that smile, she had the breath. But the eyes were the same, guarded and solemn. "Many things?" he repeated.

"Yes, many things. But for now, I would be please if you walked with me."

"Where, your Highness?"

She laughed a light laugh that was used just as much as her smile. "I haven't the faintest idea. Let us find out together. Come." She reached out and took him by the hand. She didn't wait for his consent. She turned and started walking.

"Your High—" Whatever Jon Snow was going to say next, it was cut off by his stumbling. Jocelyn laughed as he almost fell but he soon regained his balance and quickly stood by her side. His wolf came to his other side and Jocelyn came to Rhaenys's. Together, they started walking through the godswood.

Rhaenys liked the feel of Jon Snow's hand in hers. It was just big enough to enfold hers but not engulf it entirely. He had every reason to let go but he didn't. "Tell me of Winterfell, Jon Snow," she told him as they walked under the trees. The sun was rising up through the trees, shining its light on the leaves. Aegon and the others would be getting up soon.

He looked at her with a questioning look. "Hasn't Jocelyn told you about it?"

"I wish to hear about it from you. I fear that Jocelyn would give me a colored description of it."

"I'm not that person anymore, Rhaenys," her friend told her. When she looked over at her, there was a slightly annoyed look.

Rhaenys saw that look but could only remember the day that Lady Dayne recovered from her sickness. She had announced that Jocelyn would go to Winterfell within the week to the royal family in a private setting. Jocelyn had protested loud and hard enough that she had thought people outside the room would've heard. Then she had said something that she shouldn't have and her mother did something Rhaenys never would have thought she would do.

But she did not want to think about that. She turned her face to look at Jon Snow again. "Indulge me, if you would."

And he did. He told her of Winterfell. He didn't try to impress her with eloquence or poetry in his words. He didn't try to make Winterfell sound like it came from a dream or a song. He simply told her about it. He painted it with simple words and simple descriptions. He spoke about how he and his half-brother would train in the yard of the castle or watch their younger brothers practice. He spoke of the Pack and their days together (although Rhaenys thought he sounded a little bit bitter on that). He spoke of his little sister Arya following them around, acting more like a boy than a girl. Jocelyn would add in a word every once in a while but it was mostly his words that gave her the image of Winterfell.

When he was done, Jocelyn had a question of her own. "What were Nymeria and Shaggydog doing around you?" she asked him.

"They were?" he asked, puzzled.

"Yes, they were." They walked around a large redwood tree as she spoke. The wolf took a minute to sniff the base before catching up to them.

"I didn't see them."

"That's because Ghost chased them off before he woke you up. But what were they doing there in the first place?"

"I could not tell you that, Joce," he said. It was obvious that he didn't know. He had an innocent look on his face at the question. Jocelyn frowned at him but said nothing more about it. The wolf at his side didn't do anything to contribute, only kept walking forward.

"I am more interested in why you were sleeping out in the godswood," Rhaenys said aloud, looking at the bastard holding her hand. She absently noticed that they were nearing the entrance to the godswood. She would have to steer the walk in a different direction if she wanted to keep him to herself for a little while longer.

His cheeks became red with blush. "I found my chambers to be too warm," he said quickly, not looking her in the eye. "I could not sleep easily."

"So you chose to sleep outside in the godswood?"

"Yes. The old gods would keep watch over me as I slept."

She didn't know about that but when she thought about it, the face carved into the heart tree had a shared quality with him. It was the sadness they shared as Jon Snow slept, more so when he had said that one word. It had been a part of what made him look more a boy than man with his eyes closed.

She was about to steer them away from the entrance when Tya Lannister appeared. "Your Highness, Lord Snow, there you are!" she said with a joy that Rhaenys knew was faked. It was just too exaggerated to be real. "We were beginning to think that you wouldn't show for support."

"Support for what?" Jocelyn asked her.

Her green eyes saw her and Rhaenys saw the disgust and disdain for her friend in them. But it didn't last long and the daughter of Cersei Lannister smiled widely. "Why, Prince Aegon is sparring against other noble sons in the practice yard, including the Northmen."

"We shall be along presently, Lady Tya," Rhaenys assured. She took that as enough and left, although she left with a lingering look at Jon Snow.

"So who's going to beat him?" Jocelyn asked as they began walking towards the entrance proper. The wolf turned and left silently with no urging, disappearing into the godswood.

"What do you mean by that, Joce?" Jon Snow asked her.

"Who's going to beat the prince?"

"You don't have any faith in my brother, Jocelyn?" Rhaenys asked her.

"He could barely hold a training sword when I saw him last."

"Times change, my friend," she said.

"Your Highness, perhaps I should let go of your hand now," Jon said to her.

She looked at their hands together, hers feeling comfortable inside his. "Why should we?" she asked, looking up at him. She held the question in her eyes mixed in with innocence.

He blushed faintly again but kept eye contact with her. "It would not look good for a northern bastard to be holding the hand of the Targaryen princess."

She could see the reasoning in his words but ignored it all the same. "Why should it be a concern?" she asked him. She started walking, ignoring his protests (faint as they may be) as she pulled him gently but firmly along.

Together they walked into the courtyard and attracted the eye of everyone there; with the exception of Aegon and whoever he was dueling. A Kingsguard stood close by, watching everything that happened. Who it was, Rhaenys couldn't tell from this distance. But she was a little amused when she saw that Obara, Nymeria, Tyene, and Arianne were already coming her way. The firm grasp holding her hand disappeared and from the corner of her eye, she saw Jon Snow step away.

She turned to follow him but Obara quickly stood in her way, her spear in hand. "What are you doing?" she demanded in an angry hiss.

She stared hard at her bastard cousin. "Watch your tone with me, Obara," she said in reply. The sound of swords hitting each other again and again filled the air but quickly became a dull sound in the back of her ear.

"Rhae, we told you to stay away from that dog," Nymeria said.

For a moment, she compared the Sand Snake to the direwolf and found herself almost smiling at the comparison. But she knew that she couldn't right now. "He has a name, Nymeria," she told her cousin. "And he is the same as you."

"Rhaenys, he is nothing like her or us," Tyene said, her quiet voice almost sweet and delicate. But Rhaenys knew that could be easily faked. "For one thing, he isn't as pretty as Nym."

"For another, he's the son of the dog, Ned Stark," Obara growled.

"I believe that the Stark sigil is a wolf," Arianne remarked lightly.

"And he is a bastard, the same as you three," Rhaenys said, looking at the Sand Snakes. "From the way you've acted just now would make me believe that Sarella is the sensible one of the four of you."

"That would be because she is currently taunting the Greyjoy boy in front of his sister, waiting to see how long it will take for him to crack." She said this with an amused look on her face.

They all heard the sound of someone falling to the ground. If she had to go by she heard her brother cry out victoriously, she assumed that Aegon had won. "Seven hells, he did actually get better," Jocelyn said, an impressed tone to her voice.

Rhaenys looked over at the sparring ground and saw her brother standing over one of the Northmen, she couldn't tell who. "As I said, Joce, times change." When she observed the crowd, she saw Margaery Tyrell standing close to Aegon beside her brother Loras and Renly Baratheon. The three of them always did seem to be close. But while Aegon gave his betrothed his customary smile that sent many a ladies' hearts fluttering, his eyes were searching for someone else.

She knew who he was looking for. _"Why must you keep looking for her?"_ she asked him silently. The last time she asked him personally, he didn't answer and didn't speak to her for the better half of three weeks. But his eyes missed her as Mya walked towards to her, wearing one of her old black dresses. "Your Highness, Lady Jocelyn," she said in simple greeting, holding a piece of parchment in one of her hands. "Would you like to add to the wagers?"

"What wagers?" Rhaenys asked her.

"Your court has been making wages on the prince's sparring matches. I've been tasked with keeping the odds and the bets."

"By who?" she demanded. Mya didn't say anything to answer, only flicking her eyes at her cousin once. It was all she needed to turn on her. "Arianne, Mya is my handmaiden, not yours."

"Someone has to keep track of the betting," Nymeria remarked as she idly stroked the leather whip at her side. Rhaenys looked at her sharply but she did not say anything else. Mya looked at them both before placing her free hand on the bracer she wore on her arm.

"What's the betting looking like?" Jocelyn asked Mya. "Are there any bets against Aegon?"

"Actually, there are none."

She was confused and it showed. "Than what are you betting on?"

"How long each opponent lasts against him," she answered blandly. "Loras Tyrell is the one who lasted the longest, about four minutes worth. I should also mention that the prince had lifted the old sanction against the royal family for the spar."

Tya looked surprised at that but Rhaenys wasn't. If someone struck the royal family, they would lose the striking hand. It was something they thought carried over to the sparring yard and would hinder it. Aegon lifting it made sense. He did love a good spar.

"You fought well, Ser Domeric," Aegon said to the boy he bested. Rhaenys looked back at the fight and saw him holding a hand. The boy took it and with his aide stood up. When he reached his full height, Rhaenys saw that he was Domeric Bolton.

"My thanks, your Highness, but I am no knight," he replied as he removed his hand, his voice on the quiet side.

"Then I shall call you my Lord Domeric."

"That would not be true either. My father is Lord of the Dreadfort, not me. Not yet." The court of young knights, squires, and ladies began to mutter amongst themselves. Oddly enough, the Northern group (small as it may be) was not speaking. But then the boy smile gently. "But I would be honored if you called Domeric."

"So be it, Domeric," Aegon said with a smile. Rhaenys could practically hear the hearts of those maidens flutter in their chests. "You fought well."

"As did you, your Highness. I dare say that you've gone through quite a number of the Pack this morning." A laugh came from the northerners, with a few being pushed around in good jest. The smiles were just as good. She saw a black bear, a white tree, and buckets among the sigils on the men with the Northern group.

"I enjoy taking on fresh challenges," her brother said. "You northerners are a capable lot, you most of all, so far. I fear that the Knight of Flowers would meet his match against you." Loras Tyrell did not look like he agreed with those words, if the slight scowl on his face said anything. But he did not let it go any further than that.

"You honor me, Prince Aegon. However, I am only the second best swordsman who resides in Winterfell," Domeric said to him.

Aegon smiled. "Then I would like to try my strength against Robb Stark if he is such a fierce swordsman."

"Robb is a good with a sword in his hands, but he isn't the one I speak of."

"Then who?" he asked, curious.

"Jon Snow," he answered.

The entire yard fell silent and turned to Jon Snow. So did Rhaenys and Jocelyn. He stood at a far corner, with a fat boy in a green jerkin, a squire with grey hair, and (much to Rhaenys's surprise) Ser Daemon Sand and Quentyn. But even they were silent and staring at him now, taking a step away from him. He looked around at everyone, plainly uncomfortable.

"Jon Snow," her brother called out to him as Domeric stepped away. "Come join me. I would test my sword arm against yours." The people standing between the two parted, leaving Jon Snow a clean path to the center.

But yet, he did not move from his place. Everyone was silent as they waited for him to take that first step and walk to the prince. "That cannot be so, your Highness," he finally said, bowing his head to him.

Aegon's smile faltered and Rhaenys could see the confusion in his eyes. "Why is that?"

"I am a bastard."

There was silence in the courtyard. Then her brother laughed and when he laughed, so did the rest of his court. It was not a mocking laugh or a cruel laugh (if anyone was laughing that way, it was muffled by the rest of them). Rather, he laughed like he had just been told a good joke. Jon Snow stood there, looking rather uncomfortable. There was a redness coloring his cheeks. If she was the cause of it, Rhaenys would say that he was blushing. But now, she could see that it was from embarrassment.

"A good jest, a good jest, Lord Snow," Aegon said to him. "But come now, I would lock swords with the best in Winterfell."

"I must refuse, your Highness, for I am a bastard," he replied, keeping his head bowed slightly.

"Come, Lord Snow, spar against me."

"I cannot." Lord Tarly's boy still stood by him, as did the other three. Some of the northerners began making their way to his side.

Irritation flashed in Aegon's eyes. "I could order you to the field."

"And I would be forced to disobey you."

"Why? Why would you be forced to disobey me? I will hold nothing against you if you are victorious. In fact, I welcome it. Now come, take up a sword against me." He flung his arms wide, as if he meant to welcome an embrace.

But Jon Snow did not move from where he stood. "I cannot, your Highness."

"Why?" he demanded once more lowering his arms, his face a tight expression of irritation and anger at being refused.

The bastard did not look fearful at his anger, only respectful. "Bastards cannot bruise royalty, only trueborns." At those words, the yard fell silent once more.

Rhaenys heard them and knew at once that he was right. Aegon might have removed the sanctions against the royal family but he did not remove that law from play. He must have known that on some level for he had only sparred against the trueborn. Now he had been called out on it and he could not act against it.

By now, most of the northerners were by Jon Snow's side. The silence in the yard dragged on. "Forgive me, Prince Aegon, I have disrupted the air," he said to Aegon, bowing his head briefly in apology. "I will leave."

He turned his back to the yard so he could go into the castle proper. "It seems the bastard remembered his place and manners after all," Obara said loudly. "I, for one, am amazed that frozen hellhole could spawn such a thing." She and her sisters laughed loudly at her jape but the rest of the yard did not.

When their laughter finally died away and they looked to see why everyone else did not join them, they found that the northerners were staring at them with anger (and Quentyn with disgust). But none were so angry than Jon Snow. He stalked towards Obara, his eyes shining and hard, making them look more like sharp steel then mystifying smoke. Rhaenys's breath was caught in her throat and she felt a chill that quickly led to a warmth that made her beginning to feel wet. Watching him now, he looked more animalistic than man, like a wolf bearing down on its prey.

Obara must've felt the same thing but didn't back down. She stared at him with condescension in her stance and eyes. He came to a stop before her. "That 'frozen hellhole' is named Winterfell and it is my home," he told her in a voice tight with anger. But he wasn't shouting like she would have when she was angry. "Treat it with the respect and courtesy it deserves or I will take that spear of yours and shove it down your throat."

She just barked out another laugh. "Bold of you to insult and threaten a cousin to the royal family. But I think it's only boldness that comes from stupidity."

"You are a bastard, same as me," he said, cutting across her laughter like ice over water. "I do not speak ill of your home, extend me the same courtesy."

"Why should I? You look like you can barely hold a sword. 'The best in Winterfell?'" she repeated mockingly. "Ha! Don't make me laugh!"

A chorus of howls erupted from the godswood, five voices strong. It washed over everyone, filling their ears and traveling down right into their bones. It was an eerie sound that felt no less dangerous than the promise in Jon Snow's eyes. "I won't make you laugh," he told Obara as the howling faded away. "But I will make you regret ever opening your mouth." Having said his part, he turned and left.

Everyone watched him leave the yard to go into the courtyard. While the Pack had stayed in their place, his own little group followed him. Quentyn was the left to leave, after throwing one last look of disgust at his cousin. "My, my," Arianne said, her voice taking on an amused tone that also shined with interest. "I think I will enjoy this game, Rhae." Rhaenys looked at her cousin and saw the look she had in her eyes when she wanted a man.

"I thought that you would not be joining," she replied.

"I never said that. But that was quite the display, wouldn't you say? It's seems the bastard is a proper wolf after all. I will enjoy making him howl."

" _Not if I get him first, coz,"_ she thought to herself. She would not lose this game.

"Did you see the way Quentyn looked at us?" Tyene asked, her voice angry and her eyes the same.

"Aye, I did," Nymeria growled, her hand flexing as if to remind her that he was her cousin and blood. "That boy needs to remember to remember where his loyalty lies and who his family is." Obara did not answer to her sister's words, not audibly at least. Her face was red with angry and fury. She nodded in agreement and clenched her spear tighter.

"And you three need to remember your places and courtesies," Jocelyn said sharply. "That's my home too. We do not insult Dorne or Sunspear in the North or here at Riverrun. You should do the same to us."

Nym looked like she was about to say something in reply but Rhaenys stepped in before she could. "Joce has the right of it, you three. I do not care if you are Uncle Oberyn's daughters. Learn restraint or I will have my mother send you back to Dorne when we reach King's Landing."

They scowled at her but said nothing out loud. Obara was the first to leave and her sisters followed. Arianne went after them after a delayed second. "Thank you, Rhaenys," Jocelyn said to her, her voice grateful.

"Think nothing of it," she said back as she watched her brother spar with another. As she watched her brother spar, she could not help but find it ironic that her friend would defend Winterfell when she uttered the same words as Obara and earned a slap across the face from her mother.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

At this point, Jon is feeling a little more than uncomfortable about all the attention he's getting. It's mostly the reason why he refused the spar. He didn't come to Riverrun to stand out. It's the home of Catelyn; the last thing he would want is to stand out. Of course, that doesn't mean he wouldn't have his moments, like his warning to Obara.

If you're wondering why Quentyn is hanging around Jon, I thought it would be ironic and interesting to see what would happen if a Martell joined his own little Pack (which is what it's forming out to be). But I will confess that I got the inspiration from the story _Rule Them All_ by the author BenSky_VestaraKhai, if I'm reading what he plans to go with the story. I encourage you to read it as it is interesting. The only problem is that the author has a habit of saying when the next date for uploading a chapter is and not following through.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 9: Theon

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

He was trying to practice with his bow but was finding it hard to concentrate when he had the overwhelming urge to take his bowstring and strangle the Dornish bitch that stood near him with the smug smirk on her lips. It didn't help the fact that Asha also stood nearby, watching everything he did.

After their initial meeting, he went to find her again and found her with her crew. They laughed him away and then Catelyn had all but ordered him to sit beside them at the feast that night. He hated it for every second he was there. Asha had japed and yelled with her crew, leaving him just sitting at the same table. The only thing he enjoyed of that feast was when he managed to insulted one of the Sand Snakes.

He turned his attention back to the target in front of him. His arrow was nocked and drawn. _"Breathe in, shoot the target."_

"You're going to miss," the Sand Snake said just as he released the taut string, making his fingers jerked. The arrow flew and struck the target off-center. "See?"

" _Ignore her,"_ he told himself as he drew another arrow and nocked it to the bow string.

"You're not a very good archer, are you?" she asked him with the same mocking tone she had been using ever since she decided to saunter by just as Asha came by to watch him. The three of them stood alone in that little yard. The bastard stood close to him to speak into his ear, but not so close that he could easily punch her. His sister stood at the wall with her back against it, her eyes watching him and her.

" _Ignore her."_ He came here to practice his archery. Having his sister watch him or this Dornish bastard insult him shouldn't matter.

"It is rather sad to see such pathetic archery," she continued. "I would have thought that a Greyjoy, being a man of ships and sailing, you would know how to handle a bow and arrows. I guess that I was wrong. At least you would be adept at sailing, much like I have learned from my own mother. Oh, wait. You've in Winterfell this entire time. How sad for you."

" _Ignore her."_

"Wouldn't you agree, milady Asha?" she asked his sister just as he pulled taut on the string. His grip tightened. If he pulled any harder on it, he might've drawn blood on his fingers.

"I think you need to shut up before I have my husband kill you," Asha said shortly.

She laughed at that. "So serious, I guess ironmen look after their own after all."

"You're just annoying. Shut up already and go away."

Her laughter died away and she stared silently at Theon's sister. "Just like an ironman, all bluff and strength, never knowing how truly pathetic you really are."

Asha just scoffed. "If you're trying to scare me, you're going to have to do better than that. Typical of a green lander, always making threats but never able to follow through," she said mockingly.

Theon released the bowstring and the arrow hit the target just where he wanted. He smiled and lowered his bow. "Pathetic," the bastard said with a sneer.

"Like you could do better," he snapped at her, turning to face her. She stood tall and straight, staring at him with a superior look.

"Of course I can. Would you like me to show you?"

"Sarella?" said a voice. He and she turned and saw the eldest Tryell standing at the entranceway, leaning on his cane.

"Lord Willas," she said to him, her voice taking on a respectful tone.

"Your father would like to see you," he said back.

"Now?" she asked.

"Yes, now."

She looked back at Theon and Asha, her eyes holding the disdain for them when her mouth didn't say anything. "Alright, shall we go?" She started walking towards him.

He let her pass by simply standing to the side. When she was out of sight, he looked at them both. "My lord, my lady," he said.

"I am a captain, green lander," Asha told him. "Remember that."

"As you say, Captain," he said with a slight incline of his head. "I bid you both good day." He turned around and followed the bastard out of the courtyard.

Theon turned his attention the target before he was even finished leaving. Most of his arrows were imbedded in the target but some had been off (he blamed the Dornish bitch). He walked up to the target and began pulling his arrows out. It was a quick process, given the time it took him to hunt through the ground to find the ones there, and he returned to his starting point, ready to shoot again.

"She is right, you are pathetic," Asha said before he could even nock an arrow.

He turned to face her. "What are you talking about?"

"She insulted you repeatedly and the only skill you have and you did nothing." Her voice and eyes were filled with disdain.

"I wanted to."

"Then why didn't you? I thought you were ironborn."

"I _am_ ironborn!" he snapped at her. "I just happen to think, that's all."

Her eyes became hard as flint. "Are you calling me soft in the head?" she demanded.

He couldn't hold contact with her eyes. "No—"

"She was just an idiotic girl and a bastard," Asha continued on like she hadn't heard him. "You could have beaten her and no one would have faulted you for it. Yet you did nothing."

"Having me lose my temper would've been exactly what she wanted. If I kept my attention on my archery, she would've given up sooner or later," he retorted. "And that was no normal bastard. That was Oberyn Martell's daughter."

She scoffed at his words. "What's the difference between one green lander and the next?"

"This green lander happens to be the brother to the Prince of Dorne and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. If you think I would be able to get away with striking one of his daughters, perhaps you are soft in the head!" By the gods, couldn't she see that!?

They glared at each other in silence. "…Hmph, I guess Stark wasn't completely successful in making you a green lander," she finally said. "I just hoped that you hadn't forgotten who your real family is."

"I…I haven't." His anger and irritation began to fade away. In truth, he had forgotten about his actual family, something that he didn't even try to stop from happening. He had been the thirdborn son and youngest of Balon Greyjoy, heir to the Iron Islands. He had despised his brothers for as long as he had known them. The only people he truly remembered fondly were his mother and grandfather. "Have I heard you correctly? Father married you off?" he asked her, wanting to change what they were talking about.

To that, she barked out a laugh. "Father didn't marry me off to anyone. I married myself," she pulled out the axe from the belt around her waist, "to this." The light glinted off the head, showing him just how sharp it was.

He stared at it, his only thought being _"It's a good thing I did not ask that in front of her crew."_ He didn't need to make an ass out of himself in front of them. But out loud he said, "I hope that you will use it to find happiness on many lonely nights."

"Watch your tongue, Theon," she snapped at him.

"You watch yours," he snapped right back at her. "You're talking to the heir to the Iron Islands, remember?"

"Ha! I see a green lander who hasn't been to the Iron Islands since he left. Father has been raising me to be his heir, not you," she said scornfully.

"We are not Dorne. No woman has ever sat the Seastone Chair." He knew the history of his home, the maester at Winterfell had been insistent about it. He didn't want to, not until Lord Stark forced him to learn by marching him into the room with the maester and watching as he took his lessons.

"Better than a woman who has sailed the seas and smelled the salt of the waters. How long has it been since you smelt such a thing, Theon?"

That, he could answer easily. "Two years since the last full moon when I sailed a gallery alongside Prince Viserys."

There was surprise in her eyes at his proclamation but it quickly turned to hate and anger. She clenched tighter on the grip of her axe, almost looking for an excuse to throw it at him. "You sailed with the man who killed Rodrik, your own brother?" she demanded.

"Would that be the same brother who threatened to beat me until I was nothing but a bloody smear on the wall before he left because I told Grandfather the truth?" he demanded back at her. This was why he preferred to forget about his family.

Even though he had her there, she refused to acknowledge it. "And how did you sail on the gallery. Did you command the ship because the captain bowed to your authority of the heir to the Iron Islands?" she asked him, her tone acidic with mockery.

"We rowed."

She stopped and stared at him, her mockery. "What?"

"We did not ask for any privileges. We presented ourselves as common boys and were taken on as such. The two of us rowed the oars from White Harbor to Planky Town to King's Landing. When we didn't row, we scrubbed the deck and other menial tasks ordered of us." He could remember those days clearly. Their arms had been sore when they began but it didn't last and they sailed from North to south and then back. All six months had been worth it.

His sister looked at him silently. Then she snorted dismissively and walked away, leaving him alone in the courtyard. He stood there, clenching his bow. He wanted to go after her and teach her a hard lesson. She was a woman and he was a man! What's more, she was his sister and she treated him with disrespect! He was tempted, really tempted, to put an arrow in her.

" _You can't,"_ he told himself before he could make the first step. _"No man is as accused as the kinslayer, especially on the islands."_ He remembered that much from his childhood. He tried to turn his attention back to the target. But his anger and frustration were stopping him from firing true, getting only near hits and misses.

After the fifth arrow, he finally stopped. He stomped across the courtyard and pulled out the arrows, shoving them back into the quiver. He picked up it and the bow too, bringing them with him back to the armory where he found them. Then he chose to go back to his room, having eaten breakfast already. Well, it wasn't his room. It was one he shared with Robb and Dom. They had left everything they brought from Winterfell in that. When he walked through the door, there was a servant girl in there tending to the fire.

She saw him and stood up quickly. "Your pardon, milord," she said, her voice thick with the accent of the Riverlands. "I was just tending to the fire."

"Is that all?" he asked her, leaning against the doorframe with a confident smirk on his lips. She was a pretty enough wench with curves beneath that plain blue dress of hers. Her dark brown hair fell down her back straight and her curious eyes watched him. There was a blush on her cheeks as she stared at him and the smirk only grew wider. He knew that he was handsome and he knew that other women saw it too.

"Ye-yes, milord," she replied.

"Perhaps we should do something about that then." He walked into the room proper, closing the door behind him.

He felt much better after having the girl. It had been a good way to waste away the day. After they were done, she left to continue her work and he left to find something to eat, feeling a little bit hungry. He found the way down to the kitchen and got some bread and meat for his nourishment. He carried it back to the hall, finding a table to eat at.

"Theon!" called out Viserys's voice. He looked up from his food to see his friend come walking over to him with a girl by his side. "Where have you been?" the prince asked as they came to a stop beside his table.

"Enjoying myself," he answered with a smirk. It turned into a playful one when he looked up the girl. "And who are you?"

"Watch it, Greyjoy," Viserys said in a somewhat serious voice. "That's my sister and your princess. You do not use your usual techniques on her."

"Fine, fine, but it's nice to hear admit that they are techniques," he said with a laugh and the smirk still on his lips. They've had this argument before and it was nice to see the prince finally concede it. They sat down beside him and relaxed.

"Where have you been, Theon?" Viserys asked him again.

"I told you, I was enjoying myself," he replied as he bit into a piece of the meats on his plate. It was cooked just the right way he liked it, with barely any pink in it to give him the barest hint of blood. It was a sweet taste to him, one given to him by the North.

"With what?" he asked. "Actually, never mind. I think I know what you were doing," he said, waving his hand through the air like the matter was done. "Dany doesn't need to hear such things from you."

"So if she was sent away, I'd be able to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" the girl asked, looking at both of them. Gods, she was a beauty. Looking at the innocence radiating from those purple eyes made Theon's loins stir again and after being so sated too. Her silver-blonde hair, much like her brother's, framed her face nicely and her body, the gods had truly blessed her with perfection.

"Nothing you need to know about until you're older, Dany," Viserys told her before flashing him a warning glare.

His stirring died away at the sight of that glare, but he found himself amused by it. _"Seems like the dragon is a protective creature,"_ he remarked to himself. Aloud he said, "Care to eat something, Princess?" pushing the plate over to her. "You look like you could use something in your stomach."

"Oh, thank you, Lord Theon," she said in reply, taking a piece of beard from the plate. She began eating it daintily, like he had seen Sansa do a thousand times already. She ate like a lady.

"No need to act like a lady here," he told her. "It's not like your brother is going to care."

"Watch it, squid," Viserys said to him warningly. It wasn't the serious kind of warning that he heard moments before when it came to his sister. Rather, it was the kind of warning he was more used to, telling him not to go wherever he was about to with his mouth.

That just happened to be the kind of warning he frequently ignored. "Come now, Viserys. Your table manners are still the stuff of legends in Winterfell. Perhaps I should tell her of the boar meat?"

"What about the boar meat?" she asked, looking at her brother with a curious expression. "Did something happen?"

"No, nothing happened, Dany," he quickly assured her while flashing a warning to Theon.

He ignored it all the same. "Oh, I wouldn't say nothing happened. It was the first night he was allowed to drink more than one cup of wine or mead, I can never remember which one it was, during the harvest festival. He ended up having one too many and rather asking for another portion of the boar that had been hunted for the very feast he was sitting in, he decided to leap across the table right at the creature with it while it was still roasting on the spit. He was truly a dragon in that moment," he told her with a wide grin on his face.

She stared at him with wide eyes before turning onto her brother. "Did you really do that?" she asked him. The piece of beard lay on the table, momentarily forgotten.

"…Aye, I did," he finally confessed, covering his eyes with his hand. When they peeked out from underneath the fingers, they glared at Theon.

But again, he just smiled. "She asked," he told the prince before turning his attention to a piece of bread on the plate. It had been fresh from the kitchen, making it nice and warm inside of his mouth. Just the way bread should be.

"I am going to kill you, Theon."

He laughed at that. "You've been saying that for years now, Viserys. You've yet to come through." The smile on his lips was infectious. He would know because it didn't take long for Viserys to laugh and smile too. It was an old routine of theirs, one that started from them being strangers in Winterfell and only grew stronger when they sailed together.

"Do you miss your home?" Dany asked him suddenly, looking at him intently.

He stared at her for a stunned moment of silence, his hand already reaching for another piece of beard. Why would she ask him that question? "I…I…" Gods, he couldn't even answer her. What was wrong with him? It was a simple question.

Viserys came to his rescue. "Theon, I heard from Willas Tyrell that one of Oberyn Martell's daughters was trying to goad you into a fight. Thank you for not rising to it," he said, swiftly changing the subject.

While it was a rescue from her question, it landed him in another subject that he didn't want to really talk about. "You say that," he told the prince. "My sister would say otherwise." He turned back to the food, choosing to stuff a piece of meat down his mouth.

"Would that be the sister that Tyrell is interested in?"

The meat came back up in a hacking cough, almost choking him before he spat it out on the table, leaving a glob of barely chewed meat on the table. "What?" he said in surprise.

"We saw them talking together," the princess told him. "They seem to be cordial with one another and were actually talking about dogs at sea, not like the insults they were throwing at each other before."

"Trust me, Theon; it was a surprise to see. I would have thought that they would be nasty to one another," Viserys agreed with her.

"I would've thought so too," Theon said. He shrugged his shoulders and chewed on a piece of meat. "But it's not like my father will allow her to marry him."

"You know that for sure? You haven't seen him since he surrender."

"He's ironborn." That was all the answer they needed.

"And so are you," the princess remarked. "It's why you held onto that driftwood for two days in the sea."

Had the cup he was reaching for actually was in his hand, it would have fallen into his lap and made a mess. But it didn't. His hand just froze there as he stared at her. His mouth was agape and he tried to speak. But it was like his voice would not come easily. Viserys looked at him confusion, trying to understand what was going through his head. When he could not find any words to use, he stood up from the table and essentially ran from the hall. "Theon!" he heard the prince shout but he didn't stop.

When he did stop in a corridor, his breath was ragged. How? How could she have known about that? He had never told anyone about it! How could she have known!

" _Father!"_

" _No, no!"_ he thought to himself, slamming his hand against the wall. The pain was fresh but it wasn't enough.

" _Father! Maron!"_

" _Stay there, don't come up!"_ he shouted at the memory threatening to haunt him. He would not allow it happen. He had lived through it once; he would not live through it again.

" _Asha!"_

" _Shut up!"_ he roared at the little boy's voice inside his head. It quieted down but he could still hear it. There was one way to shut it up, a way he preferred.

That was how he found himself at the riverbank with a sack of wine in his hand and a nice warm feeling all around. He knew the feeling only came when he was drunk, having had it many times before. It helped him forget where he came from. He drank heavily from the skin and was in probable need of a new one soon.

He stared at the tourney grounds still being constructed. Gods, they had been at Riverrun for how long and they were still building the damn thing? He had thought they were supposed to be ready by the time people came. _"But of course, they don't have to worry about it being ready until_ _the_ king _was here,"_ he thought sourly to himself, kicking his boots off of his feet.

King Rhaegar Targaryen was truly a royal prick if he was taking this long to get to a damn tourney. He hadn't met the man but that didn't stop him from having an opinion about him. If anyone deserved the title of king, it wasn't him or even his own father, Balon Greyjoy. No, it would've been his grandfather, Lord Quellon. Thinking about the old man brought a sad smile to his lips.

He remembered his grandfather as a stern man who commanded the islands with absolute authority, yet treated his grandchildren and family with kindness and warmth (much like Ned Stark did). But even one of his own family going against him would not stop him from inflicting the punishment they deserved. It was later that Theon heard of how he tried to reform the Iron Islands, only for Balon to cast those attempts aside when he took the Seastone Chair.

It was only now he thought that it was too quick for his father to take the Seastone Chair. His grandfather had been old, that was true, but he was still hale and hearty before he died. He would have thought that his father was responsible for his death, but even in the Iron Islands, no man was as reviled as the kinslayer. It didn't matter; Balon ascended the Seastone Chair after Quellon died.

" _And barely a year after he took the chair, the Iron Islands tried to rebel and earned nothing but contempt for it,"_ he thought bitterly. His father and uncles had been so sure that the North would join them in attacking the south; they never thought they would be attacked instead, or if they did it would take too long. They lost that notion quickly when the Northern fleet arrived at the Islands and laid siege to them all, especially Pyke. When the rebellion had started he was a prince. When it ended, he was a hostage.

" _And the Starks have never let me forget it."_ It wasn't obvious or cruel in how they did it but it was there. No matter what he did, he still wasn't one of them. The Pack, Winterfell, the North, his friendship with Robb, all reminded him in some way that he wasn't of the North. His closest friend was the brother of the king his father rebelled against, the irony.

He turned his head down to the river's current. The twisting and folding waters paid illusions on his drunken mind. If he concentrated, he could almost see the Starks in the current. There they stood, so happy and perfect. He felt jealous at the sight of them. A hope that his family could've been like that filled his mind. Soon the currents showed his family, even the dead ones. They were all there. He could see them laughing at him or looking at him with disgusted eyes. Anger rose up inside him and he struck the water, dispersing the image. _"Fuck them,"_ he decided.

A scream pierce the air from down the bank. "Someone help!" a woman shrieked.

" _Wha?"_ he thought, turning his head to look at the screaming wrench. She turned out to be Dornish and with the Red Viper too. His daughters were all scrambling around the bank, even the bitch. He scoffed inwardly; they must've lost some of their jewels in the water's current. If they had, they were certainly making a large scene about it.

"My daughters!" screamed the woman again, making him go still. "They're in the river! Someone, please help! I can't see Obella!"

He heard those words and he looked at the panic that was on her face and the face of the Dornish around her. He looked to the river and saw one person trying to stay above the current but failing. _"No, not again,"_ he thought to himself as he stared, the warmness leaving him and the voices replacing it.

" _Father! Asha! Rodrik! Maron, please! Grandfather! Someone, please, DON'T LEAVE ME! COME BACK!"_

" _NOT AGAIN!"_

He didn't remember standing up, he didn't remember dropping the skin of wine, and he didn't remember pulling off his jerkin and tunic. What he did remember was the second he hit the water, it welcomed him with a cold and rushing feeling all around him. The darkness might've been confusing but not for him. He aligned himself with the pull and followed it, swimming fast and strong.

When his lungs demanded air, he broke the surface for a gasp, barely seeing the others standing on the bank before he dived back down. _"Swim, you bastard, swim!"_ he told himself as he swam after the two in the river. The first one he saw was a young girl floating in the water, not even trying to swim to the surface. His heart clenched at the sight. The other one was still trying to keep her head above the surface but she was losing her strength.

He swam down to grab the younger one first and then kicked his legs upwards to grab the other by the wrist. She struggled against him as he broke the surface for, trying to reach around to hit him. "Stop that! I'm trying to save you!" he shouted at her. With his arms full, it was a challenge to swim back to the bank. His legs soon began to feel like dead weights baring him down. But he still kicked, forcing his way back to the bank.

When he did reach it, he pushed the two girls onto it before getting onto it himself. He laid there for a second, breathing hard. "Obella! Obella, wake up!" the elder of the two girls screamed, shaking the younger. But the younger just lay there, motionless with her eyes closed. "No!" the elder wailed.

He stared at the two of them and suddenly was brought back to a memory of better days. His grandfather was taking him to the shore to watch the drowned men preform their rites, taking him so close that he could feel the water in his feet. He didn't know why he was motivated by that memory, but he was already kneeling over the younger girl, pushing the elder out of the way. _"Skip past all the ritual parts, Theon,"_ he thought himself. _"What did they do?"_

The chest, they had pumped away on the chest. But they had done it on a man older than the girl in front of her. No, he couldn't focus on that. Just do what he remembered. He reached out and placed his hands on her chest, pushing up and down. "What are you doing?" he heard the other girl ask. He ignored her, focused on his pumping. "I said what are you doing?" She shoved him but he rolled with it and kept pumping.

But even as he pumped, nothing happened. _"What's wrong? What am I doing wrong?"_ He looked back through his memory. The kiss! The ritual would not be complete without the kiss of life! There were feet thundering towards him, but he ignored it as he leaned to the girl's mouth. _"Gods, this has to be the youngest girl I ever kiss!"_

Someone grabbed his shoulders but he shook them off. When he pulled back, the girl wasn't moving. _"Come on, come on."_ He started the ritual again. More hands grabbed his shoulders but he shook them all off. He kept pumping on her chest and gave her the kiss of life once more. Her body shook in his hands and he let go quickly. Her eyes opened and she twisted her head to the side to cough out the water she had swallowed. When she was done, she began to cry. It was a cry of terror and relief, mixing together.

"Obella!" the elder girl cried in relief, pulling her into a hug. They held onto each other like they wouldn't let go.

Theon stood up and finally looked around for a moment, seeing the rest of the Dornish standing around them and (much to his surprise) a couple of Asha's men. But his relief at seeing the girl alive quickly turned to anger. He reached down and pulled them up roughly to their feet. "What were you thinking!?" he demanded, holding them by their shoulders.

They stared at him with wide eyes. "What—?"

"What were you thinking!? Did you have any idea of what to do or did you just think that the water looked nice? Do you even know how to swim!?" he shouted at them, shaking them hard.

It was the older one who got her voice back. She looked at him with angry eyes that were also haughty, trying to tell him that she knew better than he did. "Yes, we've learned how to swim at the Water Gardens—"

He knew of the Water Gardens and immediately saw what was wrong with what she was trying to tell him. "That's dead water! The river has a current to it, a pull! Swimming in a river or even an ocean is different than swimming in a pool!" He swung his head around, spraying water droplets from his hair, until he found the bastard who had been tormenting him that morning. "You! You say that you've been trained at sea! You must've known this, why didn't you stop them!?" She stared at him, caught off guard and unable to reply right away. That was all he needed to know. He turned his gaze from her and back to the ones he saved. "From now on, don't go near the river unless you know how to swim proper or I will let the Drowned God take you next time!"

He turned away from the bank, pushing through the Dornishmen. It was only when he was free of them that he saw that Asha had been amongst the people who had gathered. She gave him a look that he didn't back down from. At that moment, he didn't care what she might say about him or what just happened. The look didn't last long and he walked away from her, back up the bank to where the rest of his clothes and that skin of wine were.

* * *

At the feast that night, he was forced to sit with his sister's crew again. He chose to ignore them, focusing more on his goblet. The food before him had been eaten but it was for the sake of making sure he didn't wake up with a hungry stomach. All around him he heard the festival with people shouting and music playing. It was a joyous feast and yet, he wanted to leave.

"Hey, Priest!" one of his sister's crewmates shouted down the length of the table. Whoever he was calling to, it was none of his damn business. "Priest!" the crewmate shouted again as he took a drink from the goblet.

When he set it down, he saw that most of the ironborn were looking at him. "What?" he demanded.

"He was talking to you," another crewmate said, pointing down the table at the shouter in question, a grizzled old man who was missing an eye.

He was surprised by that. _"I'm Priest?"_ he asked himself. But aloud he said, "Do I look like I'm a fucking drowned man?"

"You're raising them from the dead, you might as well be," the old seaman said.

"The Damphair would say otherwise," another said in small protest. He looked cleaner than the old man which wasn't by much for an ironborn.

"Aye, he would need a different name," a third agreed.

" _I already have a name,"_ he thought to himself. But before he could even say that, they were already debating names amongst themselves. The most ridiculous one he heard Maiden-saver.

It was Asha who broke the argument that was starting to bubble up. "Tidebreaker," she declared, "Theon Tidebreaker. If you're going to call him something, call him that."

"Aye, that'll do," Qarl the maid, one of the crew he actually knew by name, agreed. "The tides broke on him but he did not break to the tides."

He froze at that proclamation, the goblet in his hand and reaching for his mouth. "How do you know that?" he asked, barely able to keep his voice from cracking or breaking.

"Everyone in the islands of the two days you clung to a piece of driftwood in the sea. You fell from your lord grandfather's ship in the midst of the Storm God's rage and thought dead. But you were found and then brought back alive."

" _Shivering and terrified more like it,"_ he thought to himself. The story he just heard was barely the one he remembered. He didn't fall off that ship. When an ironborn longship found him, he was terrified of them all. His terror didn't lapse until he had gotten back to Pyke and his grandfather. But he would be damned before the gods before he told them that. These were his people; he could not look weak to them.

"You," a familiar voice said in front of him. A quick glance of his eyes told him that it was the same bastard from this morning. He chose to ignore her even as his sister's crew looked on. "You," she said again. He still ignored her. "Have you gone deaf in the short time since we last saw each other?"

He did choose to speak. "Sister, do you have anyone in your crew named 'You?'" he asked Asha, earning laughs from the crew in question.

"No, I don't," she replied before looking at the stranger standing before their table. "What do you want, bastard?"

"I am not here to talk to you, Captain," she replied, somehow managing to sound both polite and insulting when saying the title. "I am here to speak with your brother."

"Then use his name, surely you are capable of that."

She simply turned her head to look at him. "Theon, my father has asked me to come and extend you an invitation to our table. He thought that you would be bored and alone here at this table." She cast a look at the table with disdainful eyes. The men began to growl and shift their weights to fight.

He was insulted too, even if by association. But they were his people and he would rule them, one day. He couldn't let this pass otherwise he would seem weak to them. "It seems that your mother didn't train you in manners as well as sailing," he remarked relaxed as he reached for the goblet and drank from it. "Or is it your father who has failed in that?"

She looked back at him. "What?"

"You address your betters with the respect given to their ranks. As you call my sister captain, you would call me lord." There were scowls on the crew's faces at his words but he had to keep going on with what he was saying.

The bastard scoffed at that. "And how are you my better? Because you're a man?" she challenged him.

"What is my name?" he asked her.

"Theon," she said instantly.

"And what is the name of my house?"

"Greyjoy," she answered. "And if we are comparing names of houses, mine is Martell."

"You don't have a house, you are bastard-born," he rebuked her, using the same tone of voice he used when mocking Jon Snow.

She recoiled slightly like she had been struck by a blow. But then she scowled at him. "My father is Prince Oberyn Martell."

"And mine is Lord Balon Greyjoy. But my mother is his wife while yours is not. You're not a Martell, you are a Sand. _That_ is how I am your better." He looked past her at the Dornish table. The Martells were watching them with a particular interest. The girls he saved were watching too, them most of all. "And if you're anything like your father, I think I am better off sitting here at this table."

Asha was quiet. So was her crew. The silence felt almost deafening to him but he forced himself to not look at them. He kept his eyes focused on the bastard. She was angry but it highlighted her features, making her more pretty. "You would dare refuse the offer of friendship from a Prince of Dorne?" she asked.

"Coming from you, who seemed content to insult me and my skills this morning? Yes," he replied before taking another drink from the goblet.

"I should have expected this from an ironman," she said with a scoff, "always going on about your iron price. But wait, you're not actually an ironman, are you? You've been in Winterfell ever since your fool of a father tried to rebel." She put her hands on the table like it was hers.

He was angry at the insult but he did not reach out and strike her. Instead, he put the goblet down and picked up the knife instead. He held it in his hand, the metal being shown right at her. He stared at it, moving it around as if to get a better look at it, always making sure she could see the metal. No one said a word, which was saying something an ironborn. Not even his sister spoke.

"You're right, of course," he said finally, stopping the motion of the knife. "The ironborn hold to the iron prince. But though I was raised by wolves, I remember the sea with my eyes, the salt with my nose, and the wind on my face." He moved suddenly, slamming the tip of the knife down between her fingers and missing her flesh by an inch or so. As the blade quivered in the wood, he stood up to his full height looked at the Sand Snake. "I am ironborn, we take what we want. And you have nothing that I want." His piece said, he sat back down and went back to ignoring her.

It was only after she turned and left that he turned his head. The ironborn men were nodding in acknowledgment to him, saying that he didn't do badly and that the Dornish slut forgot who she was talking to. But it wasn't their approval he was looking for. He looked at Asha, his sister and the only other Greyjoy at Riverrun. She looked back at him, her face a mask. But then there was the faintest of smirks on her lips and the briefest of nods, unnoticeable if he hadn't been looking for them. To him, those two things meant something more then what her crew could give her.

He turned back to the food before him, ready to actually eat, when the prince stood up from the high table and cried out "Jon Snow!"

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

In this story, with the Rebellion happen the way it did, the Iron Islands never got involved. So Quellon Greyjoy lived for much longer. He still died, of course, and his son took the Seastone Chair and promptly planned for rebellion, thinking that the Targaryens were weak and the North would join him. He was wrong.

As for what happened to Theon, you already know some of the details. Details will be revealed later on. I won't reveal everything right away (as I've said before) but I will say what happened ties into his grandfather's death and the rebellion.

I will be perfectly honest and admit that I don't know if swimming in a river or out in the sea is different than swimming in a pool. I just assume that there was and went with it. It played in what happened to Theon when he was young and why he saved the two Sand Snakes. Ironically enough, the experience for him made him unable to bathe in still water. If he wants to get wet, he absolutely has to find a body of water with a current. I don't know there's an actual name for that kind of fear so let me know if there is.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 10: Jocelyn

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

The first thought that came to her when Aegon stood up and shout out her brother's name was _"He was supposed to have grown."_ When he was a child he had always done something like this, standing and loudly proclaiming something. It didn't matter what it was, he would declare it so everyone in the room could hear him. Seeing him do this now in front of the entirety of Riverrun and making them all fall silent shouldn't be surprising.

Her second thought was _"Why is he calling for Jon?"_ That soon followed with _"Oh gods, the training yard."_ She should have remembered about Prince Aegon was that when he was onto something, he did not let go of it until he was completely satisfied. In that aspect, he and his sister were the same.

Jon was sitting at one of the lower tables; surrounded by the boys she had seen him with at the yard. Another face that at the table was a surprise for her as it was the Imp, Tyrion Lannister. She had thought that he had been sitting at the Lannister table but the seat next to his niece was empty. He sat on the other side of the table across from Jon. He was looking at the prince now too.

"Your Highness?" asked her brother, barely looking up at the high table. It was like he was trying not to be disrespectful and not make eye contact at the same time.

"You owe me a spar."

" _That's what he stood up for that?"_ Jocelyn thought to herself. He couldn't have sounded more childish then right now. She would have rolled her eyes at him if she hadn't been so focused on Jon. Rhaenys sat next to her and was doing the same.

He looked uncomfortable at being singled out like this. "Your Highness, I—"

"You owe me a spar, Jon Snow. We shall have it. I wish to test my sword against yours."

"Prince Aegon, I must refuse you."

"And why is that?" he asked, his voice challenging him.

"Well, for one thing, we seem to be at a feast," Tyrion Lannister remarked loudly for everyone to hear. "It is hardly the place for a sparring match, your Highness."

"On the contrary, my lord, it is the perfect place for a sparring match," he retorted. "We have an audience to watch and cheer us on. And it will give them some much needed entertainment for tonight has been a little lacking so far."

" _Was that supposed to be a slight against Lord Tully?"_ The man didn't look embarrassed, more like he had heard a good jape. If anything, it was Lady Catelyn who didn't look too pleased by that remark.

"But you still haven't answered me, Jon Snow," Aegon continued, still staring down at her brother. "Why must you refuse me?"

He tried to answer him. "I am a—"

"Be silent. Your excuse of being a bastard will not stop this spar. I lift the law of striking the royal family and the sanction of bastards sparring against trueborn royals." He raised his hand and snapped his fingers. The doors opened and in came servants carrying training armor and tourney swords. They swept down the middle of the hall and came to a stop on opposite corners of the dance floor.

Jocelyn saw swords and the armor and realized something. _"This wasn't spontaneous. He planned this."_ The old Aegon couldn't have done something like this. And now he could. He must've grown up some after all. But now the attention was on Jon.

He was looking at the armor and the swords. Even though there was a good distance between them, she could see the desire in his eyes. He wanted to take the sword and prove himself against Aegon. It was the same desire she had seen in the yard. But then his eyes looked up at the high table and the desire vanished. She knew why, she didn't have to even look. Lady Catelyn was staring him down, her eyes pinning him to the chair. It was a look she had used on them both when she thought either of them had done something wrong.

While she had always been defiant at the look, Jon could never keep eye contact with her. His eyes would always find something else to look at and tonight, it was the floor. "I am waiting, Jon Snow," Aegon said aloud.

All eyes were on her brother and waiting for his answer. But he didn't say anything, choosing to stare down at the floor. The hall began to get restless. One of the nobles, from the Westerlands or the Reach, she couldn't tell which, began banging his fist against his table. The rest of the hall followed his example with the cry of "Spar!" echoing in the air. They kept repeating the word with each thump of their fists.

But even though they kept thumping and shouting, Jon did not move. His friends were not thumping their fists but they were watching him just as intently. The banging continued, like drums echoing an endless base for a song. The shouting felt like voices trying to sing but only able to get one note. And Jon still did nothing.

It seemed that Aegon had enough. "If you will not answer for yourself, I will answer for us both." He stepped away from the table, walked around and then down to the closest servant and took the sword from him. "You will face, Jon Snow, here and now. There will be no argument." He snapped his fingers again. The doors to the hall closed with thunderous booms. If Jocelyn had to guess, she would say there were guards waiting outside the hall so they could prevent Jon from leaving.

It seemed that Jon reached that same conclusion. Amidst the renewed thumping and shouting, he stood up from his seat. Everyone fell silent just as he said, "As you say, your Highness." He walked quietly to the dance floor and took the other sword in hand.

Aegon's serious face broke out into a boyish grin. "Good man!"

"Princess, am I to take wages again?" Mya asked Rhaenys, leaning down beside to speak quietly in her ear. But it was still loud enough for Jocelyn and Daenerys, who sit on Rhaenys's other side, to hear it.

"No, Mya," the princess said to her. "There will be no need for that."

"Your cousins will be disappointed."

"You don't obey my cousins, you obey me. The next time they try to make you do something like that, take Nym's whip and strangle her with it. That should stave them off."

"Or make it worse," she remarked.

The princess gave her handmaiden a long look. "We both know that will not stop or bother you, Mya. You have a rage inside you, turn it on them and it will shut them up." At those words, the bastard of the Usurper flinched and looked at the Baratheon table. Renly was looking at the spectacle about to happen with interest as did Shireen but Stannis did not. He watched with a frown on his face. At that moment, Jocelyn realized that Mya wanted to be recognized by her uncle, not the ghost of her father.

The conversation over and done with, they turned their attention back to the hall. Aegon had Ser Mark and Ser Jaime helping him put on his armor while Jon had Robb and, surprisingly, Arya do the same to him. Everyone was watching with bated breath, the ones who had been at the yard that morning even more so. A quick lean of her head and a look to the side told her that while Lord Edmure was interested in what was about to happen, his lady sister wasn't. But there was nothing Lady Catelyn could do about it, so she sat in her chair and watched.

Once the armor had been put on properly for each of them, they stepped onto the dance floor proper and raised their swords to the ready. They wore no shields, something that Jocelyn put down to Aegon forgetting about it. They approached each other, Jon more hesitantly than the prince. That got her attention. _"Why is he hesitant? The law has been uplifted. He can pound away at Aegon all he wants."_

The prince struck first with an overhead blow. Jon blocked it and the blades rang mutely through the hall. The battle began in earnest, or at least for the prince. Watching her brother fight was concerning and it became more so as the fight went on. Jon barely attacked and when he did, it was weak. Aegon led the fight, pressing the attack relentlessly. His sword flashed in the torchlight of the hall, attacking at all sides. Jon defended and it was like it was all he could do. His sword nearly fell out of his hand after blocking a cut to his side.

This wasn't the dance of swords that she was expecting. _"What's going on? Jon can do better than this."_ She had seen him spar in the training yard and he was certainly worthy of being the best sword in Winterfell. But now, he was wielding the sword in hand that it was his first time. She looked quickly to her side and saw that Rhaenys was watching the spar with an intent look but with a faint hint of disappointment.

That same look was on Robb's face but more evident and Arya just looked angry. Jon had this look of panicked concentration on his face as he blocked blow after blow but as she looked on, she saw that it was faked. In that moment she realized that he was faking his part of the spar. Every half stumble and almost trip was on purpose. Every weak thrust and cut he tried to give was not what he could give. Once she saw this, she knew that this spar was nothing but a farce.

It ended mercifully soon after she realized it. Aegon caught Jon in a sword lock and then swept his legs out from underneath him. He hit the ground with a breathy _Whoof!_ When his back touched the ground, the hall erupted into applause. Everyone was congratulating the prince, some a lot more than the others. As the applauding continued, Jon got back up on his feet. He nodded once at Aegon. "A good match, your Highness," he said quietly.

" _A good match my arse!"_ Jocelyn silently yelled. _"You could've done better than that, Jon, and you know it!"_

"That was rather disappointing," Rhaenys finally said, just loud enough for her and Daenerys to hear. "I would have thought the he would be better."

"I'm sure he has a reason," Daenerys said to her with a cheerful smile. Everyone was still clapping and praising the prince, the Dornish party most of all.

But Aegon was watching his opponent with a curious look. The curiosity didn't stop when Arya walked up to Jon and started hitting him in the side. The clapping turned into laughing at the sight of the little girl hitting the older boy, making him try to avoid her and end up going in circles. Jocelyn just felt embarrassed by association. "Ow! Ow! Arya stop!" Jon told her, still trying to avoid her punches.

"You stupid!" she shouted at him as she kept hitting him. "You were being stupid! We both know you could've beaten him. Why didn't you?!"

"Ow! I—ow! Would you stop—ow—hitting me!? Ow ow! Stop it, Arya!"

"You could've beaten him!" she repeated.

"Arya!" shouted Lady Catelyn. "Stop that at once! That is not proper behavior for a lady!" She must've looked at Robb because that was the moment he stepped forward and pulled his sister away. But he looked disappointedly at Jon.

If he noticed the look, he said nothing of it. He turned back to the servant he had taken the armor and sword from, his free hand already reaching to undo the knots. But then Aegon reached out and placed his sword on his shoulder, stopping him. "You lied to me, Jon Snow," he said with a dangerous growl. "I do not like being lied to. I was told that you were the best sword in Winterfell. I was hoping to spar against that person."

Jon was nervous. It showed as his face paled. "Your Highness," he began.

Aegon didn't give him a chance to say anything. He simply slid the sword further down. "You lied to me. That was not a good spar. It was a poor one. And now I hear from your sister that you should have beaten me." He pulled his sword away from the shoulder, making the padding scrape loudly in the hall, and held the point to the ground. "We will spar again, Jon Snow. This time, fight me seriously."

"…As you command, Prince Aegon." He turned around back around with his sword up. His eyes were different now. They didn't look panicked like they had before. Now they looked focused, focused on the prince. He took a few steps to widen the gap between them. Aegon did the same and the hall fell silent again. But when Aegon stepped forward to meet him, Jon stepped to the side. He continued to do that, stepping to the side until he was circling the prince.

" _And it starts,"_ Jocelyn silently declared, already knowing how it will end. Aegon followed his opponent, turning and turning and turning with him, staying in place as he did. When he tried to step too, Jon struck. He swung his sword in a sequence, a sequence that every boy learned when they started practicing swordplay. It was something that easy to read and to block, Jocelyn knew that from watching the Pack, her brothers, and Domeric practice in the yard.

The prince defended himself easily but Jon did not press the attack. He stepped back and circled again. Some of the people in the hall laughed and called him craven. _"Fools,"_ Jocelyn thought at their laughter. _"He's not scared, he's stalking his prey."_ A wolf did not attack its prey head-on; it hunted relentless until it caught what it wanted.

Jon struck again and Aegon raised his sword to meet him. But he was caught off-guard when he found the sword coming from a different angle. He barely managed to fend off Jon's sword, which was held in his left rather than his right. Jon backed off a third time and began circling once more. This time, Aegon circled too, watching both him and the sword in his left hand. Jon saw his looks and moved the sword back to his right hand without any effort.

When the third clash, they both came towards one another to meet it. The hall was alive with the lightning song of the swords clashing against each other. Aegon was a skilled swordsmen, Jocelyn had seen that in the yard and here. He handled his sword with grace and skill that did not abandon him in this fight. He matched stroke for stroke, leading the dance of blades as best he could.

But for what skill, grace, or leading the dance that he had, Jon held it against him successfully and more than matched him. It was him that led the dance for the better part. He forced his opponent to uncertainly when he switched hands for his sword, sometimes in the midst of combat. He would back off and circle, always watching his opponent. When then prince tried attacking him, he deflected it and continued to circle. He would attack in his own time, not someone else's.

The people who had been laughing at her brother weren't laughing anymore. He had lasted longer than the others now. He met Aegon in another clash and led the fight, driving him back with his strikes and cuts. Both of them had looks of hard concentration with Jon baring his teeth in a small silent snarl. The blades came together and locked into one another. Instead of trying to push his strength against the prince, Jon took a half step back, just enough for Aegon to follow through and start to the ground. He disarmed the prince with a quick move and while the sword went into the air, he grabbed it with his free hand.

A chivalrous person would've handed the sword back and everyone in the hall had expected that to happen. But Jon attacked instead, showing that he was capable of wielding two swords in both hands too. He forced Aegon to back across the dance floor, swinging the swords with effortless coordination, keeping them in tandem while also keeping the points away from each other so they wouldn't tangle. The spar ended when he did the same thing prince did to him, kicking his feet out from under him, and then struck with both swords with a shout of finality, a primal kind of shout.

Many people gasped at the sight of him bringing the two swords down to stab the prince. But the swords only stabbed stone, on both sides of Prince Aegon's head. Jon held them there for a long moment as he stared at his beaten opponent. But when he looked up, the light of victory and excitement he had in his eyes vanished instantly. Jocelyn knew from how they disappeared that he had looked at Lady Catelyn. He stood to his full height and walked out of the hall, still wearing the padded armor. Jocelyn didn't think he knew it was still on. She also didn't think he saw the women staring at him as he left.

* * *

"How did he learn to move a sword like that?" Rhaenys asked her later under the covers of their shared bed. They weren't alone in the bed, sharing it with Elia Sand, the Red Viper's fifth bastard. Jocelyn would have thought that after the day she had had, the girl would've been afraid to leave her father's side or her mother's but she seemed to be fine. Mya also shared the bed and only spoke when spoken to.

Jocelyn shifted her weight until she was looking up at the canopy, a dark blue color that reminded her of the river next to the castle. She might think of it differently if she had been there to see what Theon had done. "Are you talking about Jon?" she asked.

"Of course," the princess replied. "I've hardly seen anyone be able to do that. To wield a sword equally in both hands is a skill!"

"Ser Rodrik calls it a talent that's rare, a gift from the gods." Jon had smiled that day, a true smile. Robb had been happy for him and so had their father, but Lady Catelyn had not. "He said that an experienced fighter might be able to train himself to wield two weapons, but Jon's skill is natural."

"It showed in the hall. By the gods, I didn't think that anyone would be able to best my brother, not even Loras Tyrell." There was admiration in her voice as she spoke of Jon, admiration and something else too, something more.

But in regards to the Knight of Flowers, she just snorted. "Hmph, if that pretty boy would spend less time showing off when sparring and more time actually trying to win, he might be a challenge to Jon."

"Pretty boy?" repeated Rhaenys with a giggle. "I doubt he would ever hear those words like that."

"He should. It would get him off his high horse. Just because Aegon praised him as the one who lasted the longest against, he thinks the greatest warrior to walk Westeros since my uncle."

"Hmm, what do you think, Mya?" she asked her handmaiden, turning her head to look at her.

Mya was silent for a moment, looking up at the canopy too. "In Ser Loras's defense, before tonight no one has ever defeated the prince in the test of arms," she finally answered.

"That should not be an excuse," Jocelyn said to the other bastard. "I wonder if they ever truly fought hard against Aegon or if they just let him win."

"They haven't. Aegon insists on it every time he takes to the yard."

Her eyes narrowed in slight suspicion at that comment. "And how do you know that?"

"He usually tries to train in the yard whenever I'm there too." There was barely enough light in the room to make out her calm expression. "Every time he takes to the field with an opponent, he always asks them to not hold back."

"Wait, go back. Aegon takes to the yard when you're there?"

"Yes." She did not sound proud or embarrassed by her answer. If anything, she sounded annoyed.

"I thought that he detested you, loathed your very being." She could still remember the days when they were little and Aegon would hound her, teasing her, calling her horrible things, most of all would be "Usurper's bastard." Mya had cried the first few times but did nothing about it. Later, she wouldn't even show him her tears.

"He used too."

"What happened?"

"I haven't the faintest idea. One day he hated me, the next he wanted me."

"Mya, you know how it happened," Rhaenys remarked to her handmaiden. "It's also where you got your bracer."

Jocelyn had seen the bracer and wondered about it. It had not been there when she had gone north. "How did you get it?" she asked, eyeing it. She had first thought it had been made of weirwood but it had been too dark when she got a proper look. Mya hadn't taken it off when she had gotten in the bed.

"When my lord uncle Renly took his coming-of-age ritual where he would hunt a stag and kill it himself, the king insisted that he would not go alone and thus made a hunting party of it. Lord Stannis did not approve as the ritual is supposed to be alone, but there was nothing he could about it. The entire royal family joined in the hunt in the Kingswood and Prince Aegon decided to ride belong side me and continue his harassment.

"When it came time for the actual hunt, the children were left behind. The prince kept up his teasing of me and I did nothing to antagonize him. He took that to further torment me and began to boast too about how he would take down a stag himself when he came of age. I pointed out that he wasn't a Baratheon so it would be pointless. He retorted that since I wasn't one either, I couldn't either. I said nothing about it, already knowing to be true.

"He became angrier and stomped away. I now know that he had gone to try get that stag. He found it and it had him back up against a tree. That's how I found him when he screamed. When it charged, I stood in its path."

"That could've killed you," Jocelyn said in protest.

"It should've," she agreed. "But somehow, I was able to stop its charge, although it still managed to gore me in the side. And somehow, I broke off the stabbing antler, pulling it out of me. The rest is a blur, until I woke up in the Red Keep with poultice in my wound. They tell me that I held the stag with one hand and beat it to death with the other, holding the antler."

"Did you?"

"I don't know. I just think they were lying. It doesn't matter in the end."

"That still doesn't explain your bracer," she pointed out to her fellow bastard.

"It was made from the antler. It was a gift from my uncle." She answered it so simply that Jocelyn found she could not argue it.

Elia made a loud bored sound out of her nose from the other side of the bed. "Are you bored, coz?" the princess asked her. She didn't sound irritated, more like amused.

"I've heard this explanation before," Elia Sand replied, "So many times that I've gotten bored of it. I wish to talk about more interesting things."

"Oh, like what?"

"Theon Greyjoy," she said with a pretty little blush on her cheeks.

Jocelyn saw that look and was torn between laughing her head off and just staring at her in shock. She knew that look. She knew that look well, having been teased about having it herself when it came to Domeric Bolton. "Oh gods, you're falling in love with _Theon_?" she asked.

"He certainly has the body of a god, especially when he is wet from the river," the girl said with very naked longing. "I don't think I had ever seen such a man before."

Jocelyn looked at Rhaenys with concern in her eyes and saw the same. No one cared for the ironmen even before their stupid little rebellion and now here Elia was proclaiming to be in love with one, with _Theon_ of all people! Jocelyn knew what Theon was like, the Sand Snake didn't. This had to be stopped before it could begin. "Elia," she started to say.

"You've lived with him," she said, stopping her before she could start. "Tell me about him."

"Elia, I know that he saved you at the river," Rhaenys told her. "But remember he's from the Iron Islands and—"

"I know where he's from, Rhae," she said impatiently. "I know he's an ironman but perhaps you all judge him too harshly for something he didn't do."

"Elia, we saw Sarella go over to the table he was sitting at. She left angrily."

"I know that, I watched her come back muttering about ignorant and stupid ironscum. He refused her offer to come sit at our table."

"And you still think you're in love with him when he dismissed your own sister like that?" Jocelyn asked her.

She actually looked insulted for Theon. "Father made a wrong choice, sending Sarella over to him. She had been rude to him this morning and continued to be rude when talking to him. She wasn't the right choice."

"What would've been the right choice? You?" she asked.

Elia would have said something, if Mya didn't speak first. "I do not believe that Elia said she was in love with Theon, only that he had the body of a god when wet and wanted to know about him," she remarked. "Perhaps if you give her some details, she will be satisfied."

" _Is she being deliberately stupid?"_ Jocelyn asked herself. They were trying to convince Elia to stop this and Mya was encouraging it. Well, if that was what she was going to suggest, then she would do it. She would give Elia what it was like to live with Theon fucking Greyjoy. "You're not his type," she told her instantly.

"I beg your pardon?" Elia asked, sounding confused. It was an act, she knew that.

"You aren't the kind of woman Theon prefers. He likes his women buxom, wide-hipped, and who know what they're doing."

"Doing?" she repeated, confused again. This time, it didn't sound like an act.

"Fucking, Elia. Theon goes to whores. You really think that he would give you a second look with a body like yours?" She knew what lay beneath the armor and leggings the bastard liked to parade around. There was barely anything there to start with.

"I'm still growing!" Elia protested.

"That doesn't change the fact you have the body of a child and Theon has always wanted a woman's body." It was hurtful and mean. She was aware of that. But Elia Sand had been deliberating irritating to her ever since they had met. Though they were both bastards, she thought herself better because of how close she was to the royal family and tried to lord that over Jocelyn. It didn't work and left things bitter between them.

"We have now officially ruined the mood," Rhaenys declared, getting both of their attention. "This was not how I wanted it to go." She didn't look at them but she was disappointed. It showed in her voice. Both of them felt embarrassed and guilty for doing that to her.

"Sorry," Elia said. Jocelyn didn't say anything. When she realized what had just happened, she lost her embarrassment and smiled instead. Rhaenys didn't a weapon or to shout at someone to get her way. All she had to do was make them feel like they had somehow disappointed her and that was it.

"Do you have anything to say, Joce?" the princess asked her.

"Yes. Sleep well." Her piece said, she moved slightly into a better spot and closed her eyes. She heard no complaints or Rhaenys trying to urge her to say more, which she took as they were following her example.

* * *

She found her brothers and sister in the training yard the next morning. Robb was watching Jon with amusement while Arya and Bran were cheering loudly. When she finally looked at the yard proper, she felt the same amusement Robb was showing. Jon stood in the center of the yard teaching the pages and young squires how to properly swing a sword. Even though he was talking and demonstrating, she could still see a slight surprised look in his eyes.

" _He wasn't expecting this,"_ she decided quietly, walking over to Robb. "Has this been going on long?" she asked him quietly.

"Good morning to you too, Joce," he said back. "Did you break your fast?"

She always ate before even considering coming out of the castle, Riverrun or Winterfell. But he had been asking that question since they were children and she more or less ignored it. "Well?"

He chuckled and answered. "It's only been going on for twenty minutes or so. They attacked him at the table in the hall." He chuckled again. "Well, I say attacked. It was more like they surrounded him and drowned him in questions. And then we ended up here."

She looked around the yard but there was no one else actually there. "You were alone in the hall?" she asked him. "I would have thought that more people would have been breaking their fast. And where is Jon's own little Pack." He was never seen without them nowadays.

"We got to him first today," Robb explained. "And the Tyrells were in the hall too. We offered them to share our table with us but they refused. The lady Margaery was polite about it but it was still a refusal."

"They were stupid," Arya declared. "I'm glad they didn't sit down with us."

Normally, that would've been the moment where Sansa would start admonishing her quite vocally. But Jocelyn's other trueborn sister wasn't there so it didn't happened. "I wouldn't have put it like that," the eldest of them said.

"It's true. Her brother was glaring at us like we did something wrong when we didn't," she protested.

"What happened?" Jocelyn asked. "Which Tyrell was this?" She didn't think it was Willas; he seemed too nice to do that.

"Ser Loras," Robb told her. "He was looking at Jon with much distaste, more so when they showed up." He gestured at the crowd Jon was teaching. He was showing a page how to properly grip a sword. The lad was paying the most rapt attention she had ever seen. He couldn't have been more than ten and stared at her brother with admiring eyes.

She turned away from the yard and looked at Robb. "Is the Pack anywhere nearby?" she asked him.

He just grinned at her. "Don't you mean is Dom nearby?"

She fought the urge to blush, having already done that in front of him once. "I don't know what you mean." She would say that every time he asked.

But he just grinned wider, something that seemed to melt all the noble ladies that came to Winterfell. "Come on, Joce. Everyone in Winterfell already knows you're in love with Domeric."

"This is not Winterfell, Robb. This isn't even the North. And I'd like to keep it there. I already know that I will never have Domeric, I do not require it to be gossip for the kingdoms." She may be Dornish but she had no desire to flaunt who she's had in bed to everyone around her.

His grin faded a little, becoming a bit more serious. "He respects you, Joce. You were the one who opened his eyes to what Ramsey Snow really was."

"Yes, and it led to that bastard taking Dom, Bran, and Sansa hostage." She blamed herself for that and had gladly kissed her brother when he and Theon brought Domeric back. "Can we not talk about that? I have no wish to speak about Ramsey Snow ever again."

"Of course," he agreed, losing the grin only to have spring back up when he looked at the yard again, laughing loudly. She looked too and started laughing as well. Somehow, the training session turned into one of the squires trying to fight Jon only to be losing quite obviously. Soon the entire yard was laughing.

It was when they were laughing that she noticed the Tyrell party had arrived on the yard. Loras Tyrell was in the lead with his sister and Renly Baratheon close by. The rest were nobles the same age as them. "You! Bastard!" the Knight of Flowers shouted out, silencing the yard and turning all eyes onto him. But his were focused on Jon. "I challenge you to a duel and should you refuse, I brand you a craven."

Jocelyn smirked at his proclamation. If there was one thing Jon was not, it was a coward. The fool just handed himself his own defeat. _"I'm going to enjoy watching this pretty boy get his ass knocked down to the ground,"_ she thought to herself as Jon accepted.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

Well that fight went as expected. I will concede that I did not originally come up with the idea for Jon wielding two swords. That came from the story "Wild Wolf" a Ranma and ASOIAF crossover that's actually well developed. If you something to read, I would recommend that. The chapters might be a bit long but that's understandable. He's got a lot of stuff.

I'd liked to believe that antler horns can be made into jewelry and therefore, also a bracer. If that's not true, someone please let me know because it's staying in there either way.

Ramsey Snow is dead and there's a bit of story there too. But I won't tell you it all completely right now. What I can tell you is that it involves how Domeric died in the canon story.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 11: Jon

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

"I can't believe we missed this happening," Pyp said with a loud howl of laugh, so strong that he actually fell on his back and so loud that the leaves in the godswood shook. Grenn was sitting next to him unsure of what was truly so funny. They were all sitting in the godswood so they could have some sense of privacy.

"Jon, did you really defeat Ser Loras Tyrell?" Sam asked him. He sat to his left against the trunk of the tree like he did. Together, they all formed a rough circle.

"Aye, I did," he said with a small amount of pride in his voice. After his duel with the crown prince, he found the Knight of Flowers to be a little lacking. At least with Prince Aegon there was a challenge.

Ser Daemon Sand was laughing too. Beside him, Quentyn Martell had an uncertain smile on his lips. "It's about time someone other than the prince knocked him down a peg or two," Ser Sand declared. "He was getting unbearable."

"You've lost to him, ser?" Grenn asked.

"Practically everyone who's tried their arm against him has, even Quentyn here." He gave the prince a nudge of his arm. He didn't say anything to that.

It was a bit of a puzzle for Jon as to why a Prince of Dorne had joined his group, since the North and Dorne were not on good terms. But then again, he was still half amazed that this group had even started. Once Sam had recovered from his injuries, he found him and Edd to thank them. Ser Daemon had found them with Quentyn to ask about Sam and it all just seemed to go from there. Pyp joined them when they saw his mummers' troupe practicing and he guessed where they were all from just by their voices. And Grenn had literally run into Edd.

"Yes, yes, well done," said the Imp, Tyrion Lannister. He sat between Grenn and between Edd on a cushion with a cup of wine in hand. He always had a cup or a jug nearby ever since he has joined them. No one really asked him if he wanted to join, he just did and no one argued the point. "You've successfully earned someone else's ire."

"I did?" Jon said a little surprised at those words. "How could I? He was the one who challenged me to a duel."

"Yes, and you were the one who beat him in that duel. The Knight of Flowers is a prickly lad. It's most likely that he'll forget that it was he who started the fight and remember that only he lost to a bastard."

His pride fell a little at that. He was proud of his sword arm, having trained hard in the Winterfell yard for hours. When Domeric called him the best sword in Winterfell, he was glad for the praise. He had wanted to spar against Prince Aegon when it was offered but the thought of Lady Catelyn finding out stopped him. When it had been forced onto him and he was made to fight seriously, he enjoyed it. Loras Tyrell turned out to be less of a challenge than Prince Aegon. But now all that felt like ash.

Ser Daemon laughed. "Think nothing of what the Imp says, Jon," he said. "You beat Loras Tyrell. That is not an idle boast. You should be proud."

"Yes, he should," Tyrion agreed before drinking from the cup. "But he should also know that it won't stay like this. If I was a betting little Imp, I would bet that Ser Loras will try to challenge him again or just make his life miserable in general." His words made his victory seem even more hollow.

"Why are you here again?" Grenn asked him.

"Why, I am here to provide sage counsel and drink wine. How am I doing?" he asked with a self-mocking smile.

"Um, well?"

"Good. I might make the learned teacher in the tales yet."

"You are a drunk, uncle, and an embarrassment to the family," Lady Tya Lannister's voice spoke from beyond the circle. Jon saw her standing there behind her uncle, a vision in a red dress with golden hair and emerald eyes. But the vision was marred by the ugly look directed to the back of the Imp's head.

He didn't turn his head to look at her, instead taking another drink from his cup. "Ah, the sound of my sweet niece," he finally said, turning around to see her. "So does your mother wish to see me?"

"I do not know. I didn't come here on her benefit." She turned her gaze to Jon and her eyes became heavy with something. "Lord Snow, may I speak with you privately?"

"My lady, we are amongst friends," he told her. "What you have to say can be said safely."

She frowned, everyone else looked uncomfortable, and the Imp chuckled. "I think my niece's words are the kind that should be kept privately. I'd hate to disappoint her." He stood up from his cushion. "Come now everyone, we must leave them be. Grenn, carry my cushion if you would."

The two of them were soon left alone in the godswood. Jon knew Ghost was near but not close. Lady Tya stepped closer to him. "I saw your spar," she told him.

Which spar was she referring to? Perhaps it was best to assume the simple fact. "I believe that the entire castle saw the spar last night, my lady," he told her politely.

She laughed a light laugh and stepped closer to him. Now she was close enough to him that he could smell her perfume, it smelt rich and exotic. Did it come from the Free Cities? "You are droll, Lord Snow. I was referring to your spar against Ser Loras."

"Oh." He couldn't think of anything else to say right away. "I-I was not aware that you were there, my lady."

She smiled at him. "I wasn't in the yard. I watched from a window. You handled yourself well. But I supposed that I should have expected that from you. After all, you were the one who finally beat Prince Aegon in a spar." She reached out and brushed her fingers against his arm.

He could feel the fingers and they felt like they were leaving streaks of fire in their wake. He felt warm and it was like his breath couldn't leave. She was looking right at him and he couldn't look away. "You flatter me, my lady," he said, barely forcing the words out of his mouth.

"I should hope so," she said, that little smile becoming just a little wider. "I wait to see you in the tourney, Lord Snow." She turned and walked away, leaving him standing there in the godswood.

When she was gone, he leaned against the weirwood for support, finding his breath again. He had never had a woman that beautiful talk to him before. Every noble lady that had come to Winterfell was for Robb or Prince Viserys or someone else in the Pack. No one came for him. But that was changing now.

It seemed like every southern woman was taking the chance to find him and talk to him, from the knightly houses to the Great Houses who all had daughters. Even Dorne, though they seemed reluctant and were more interested in Ser Daemon Sand. It was odd, but this entire thing was odd.

When he took his hand off the weirwood tree, he found himself standing before the Knight of Flower's sister. "Lady Margaery, forgive me," he said to her, bowing deeply. "I didn't see you there."

"It is alright," she said with a smile. Unlike the one he had seen the Lady Lannister wear, one full of heat and desire, this one was gentle and kind.

She didn't seem at all angry for what happened to her brother in the yard. He didn't know if that was good or bad. But if he went with what Tyrion had said, it would probably be best to go with bad. "Um, is Ser Loras well?" he asked.

"Oh, he's fine," she assured him. "You're not the first to beat my brother. Garlan has been doing that for years now."

" _He is trueborn and family,"_ he thought. He was not but he dared not say anything about that to her. The only thing he could think of saying was, "Perhaps I should spar against Ser Garlan sometime?"

She laughed. "I think that you would need additional men by your side. He prefers to fight more than one man."

The prospect sounded intriguing and interesting. He wanted to try it but he stopped himself. He had doubts that he would be allowed to do that. "Your pardon, my lady," he said, giving her a brief bow of his head. "I must go."

"Go? Go where, Jon Snow?" she asked him, seemingly amused.

He focused on a point just beyond her left shoulder as he brought his head back up. "My sister wished to talk to me today and wanted to show me something too."

"How splendid," she exclaimed, clapping her hands together and wearing a bright smile. "Come, I will join you."

His face blanched at that notion. "That is not a good idea, my lady. I am a bastard and you are betrothed. If people see us—"

"They might think the Rose of Highgarden has more than courtesies in her head," said Arianne Martell as she walked through the godswood with her bastard cousins following in her wake. He did not see the eldest or the youngest of the adults with her.

"Princess, how nice to see you," Lady Margaery said to her with a smile.

"And you," she replied with a smile of her own, although hers seemed more dangerous and smug. It wasn't obvious, more like a hint of what she could do. "I believe that my royal cousin is looking for you, my lady. Perhaps you should go looking for him?"

A wider and smugger smile appeared on her lips "Of course. I thank you for that news, your Highness. If you will excuse me," she said before turning and walking away.

The Sand Snakes waited until she was gone before they started laughing at her back. "The girl really does have nothing in her head but courtesies," Nymeria Sand declared. "One mention of Aegon and she goes running."

"It is rather amusing," Tyene agreed.

Jon did not see what so amusing about it. The Lady Margaery was betrothed to Prince Aegon. If he called, then surely she would respond. But that was none of his concern. "Your Highness, if you will excuse me," he said to the princess, bowing his head down and turning to leave.

"I do not excuse you, Jon Snow," she said in reply, walking up to his side. "But I will walk with you."

"Princess, I—"

"Hush, I will not hear an excuse for it. I am not some dainty flower. I am of Dorne; we see nothing wrong walking with someone. Besides, my cousins are here." She gestured to them.

He glanced at them for a moment. "I've met the Lady Nym but not the Lady Tyene."

"And now you have. Come, we shall walk."

They did walk through the godswood to the other end of it. Jon felt rather uncomfortable holding the princess by the arm but he could not remove his from hers. It would leave him in an uncomfortable situation. But if someone saw them, it would also become uncomfortable. He could only hope that it wasn't Lady Stark that found them like this. That would be bad.

"I saw your spar, Jon Snow," Tyene said to his back as they continued walking. The leaves played with the sun's light, dappling into shadows on the ground and trees. "You fought well."

"Thank you," he said back to her politely. She was more courteous than either of the Snakes he had met so far. But he did not know of which spar she spoke of.

"Though one wonders why you did not know steal his sword from him like you did my cousin." She sounded curious and innocent when she asked the question. If he looked back, he had a feeling that he would see a look that matched her voice.

And yet, when she mentioned the Crown Prince, he had a feeling that he was about to walk into something, he didn't know what. "There was no real opportunity to do so," he replied, now knowing which spar she was talking about. "And in the end, I did not need to do it to beat Ser Loras."

"No one can doubt your martial skills, Lord Snow," Arianne said, reaching out and stroking his arm with her fingers. Again he felt trails of fire being left in their wake. He gulped in air, feeling nervous as he looked at her. Just like Lady Margaery and Lady Tya, Arianne Martell was a vision. But she was a different vision. She was shorter than both the ladies Lannister and Tryell but she was older and more of a woman than either of them. The dress she wore left nothing for the mind and he had a hard time finding a good place to look at her.

"A chivalrous man would have returned his opponent's sword to him if he lost it," Tyene remarked rather loudly to him.

He had an answer for that. "A chivalrous man might have but that was not how we were taught by the master-at-arms at Winterfell. He taught us that if an opportunity presents itself in battle, we should never hesitate to take it."

"Hmph, we should not be so surprised to hear that from a Northman," Nymeria said, just as loudly as her sister. "After all, what do they know of chivalry?"

If it had been a proper lady who said those words, Jon might have clamped down on his tongue. But it wasn't and so he spoke. "Dorne should not speak of chivalry."

He could feel her eyes staring at the back of his head. "And what does that mean?"

"A country that has never stood to a real war, only hide in the deserts and sands, should not speak of chivalry. If you do, I would name you a hypocrite."

"This is coming from a northern savage."

"Nymeria, there's no need to be rude about it," Tyene said, chastising her sister. "He can't help where he was born."

Even though those words were spoken kindly and gently, he felt the venom in them too. "Aye, I can't help that. All I can be is proud that I am from the North, where they teach us to take an opportunity in battle that will lead us to victory."

The princess chuckled and smiled suggestively. "Bold words, Lord Snow," she said to him, staring up at him. Even though she was older by some years, he stood taller than her. "I do say that you're quite a handsome man. One could almost say beautiful."

That was not a word he had heard given to him. No one had called him either of those words. Most of the attention had gone to Robb, Sansa, or Jocelyn. No one had paid that much attention to him to call him that. "Thank you, your Highness," he told her, unable to look her in the eye.

"Modest too," she remarked. "What do you think, Nym, Tyene?" she asked her cousins, looking back at both of them. They all came to a stop and he found himself facing the Snakes.

They looked him up and down like he was some kind of meat they were vaguely interested. "He's comely enough," Nymeria finally decided, "if you go that way."

"Oh, Nym, you sell him short," Tyene told her. "He is quite handsome. If a stranger saw him, they probably would confuse him for Lord Stark trueborn son."

Those words made his stomach and heart clench. It was an innocent remark and yet, he could still feel the sting of it. They knew that he was not Lord Eddard's trueborn son. Everyone in Winterfell knew that. Nothing he could say would change that. It was best if he stayed silent.

"What was that saying the King and Queen used to tell your cousins?" Nymeria asked the princess.

"I believe it was 'Never meet a Stark at night,'" Arianne answered, looking like she was thinking it over. Her finger was on her lip, pushing it down and making it look more desirable. "What say you, Lord Snow? Are you enough of a Stark for us to be worried at night? Perhaps you'll come into our chambers and ravish us until we beg you to stop."

He stopped and pulled his arm away from hers, quite forcefully. She looked a little surprised at the move. "What do you think I am?" he demanded. "Do you think I'm some rapist or madman?"

There was surprise on her face. She recoiled slightly but recovered, putting on a merry face. "Come now, Lord Snow. 'Twas only a jest," she told him.

"So says the trueborn child," he replied. "Surely you must know that bastards are evil creatures who can only be wanton and treacherous?" Loathing filled his voice as he spoke. He was aware of what people thought of bastards and of him. Despite him wanting to prove otherwise, they would always see his name first, just like she had.

"I do not think so. Dorne does not think of bastards like the rest of the Seven Kingdoms."

Those words did not affect him like she probably thought they would. "It seems that only applies to Dornish bastards and even then that claim is weak."

She was surprised by those words. "What do you mean by that? I did not think you've been to Dorne."

"No, but I have eyes. I've seen the way you've spoken and looked at Mya Stone and Jocelyn. Perhaps it is only Martell bastards who are looked upon favorably, since they are family." He looked at all three of them. "But perhaps even that should be questioned."

"What?" Nymeria Sand said, her eyes taking on a dangerous look. "What does a bastard from the North know of family when his father's wife despises him?"

He didn't ask how she knew of that. If he did, he would lose the confidence that was building up inside him. "I know enough to understand that no matter what they say or do to earn your ire; you support them as long as they do not turn their cloak. We do not fault them or look down on them for a single comment about a situation they were not the cause of." He stepped back and walked away angrily.

His anger helped fueled his speed and he was able to keep a good distance before bothering to look back. Neither the princess nor her cousins were there. That was good. Arianne Martell may be beautiful but she and her cousins were beginning to put a foul taste in his mouth, almost like Tya Lannister. There was a difference, the Lady Lannister left a taste that was easy to quash while in her presence. But the princess's taste made him speak out like he had.

He continued walking out of the godswood. Ghost did not follow him but that was not a matter of concern. If he stayed in the godswood then he would be fine as would the other direwolves. His feet quickly led him out of the castle and onto the tourney grounds. They were still being built but looked more completed than a few days before. He also had some semblance of the lay of the land, so he knew where to go.

As he made his way through the crowds and the tents, he noticed that a few boys were following him. He couldn't see them outright, only on the edge of his sight. They were gaining ground and would soon be upon him. It didn't take as long as he had thought as they surrounded him in a part of the camp grounds that could barely be seen. He also realized that these were also the same boys that had beaten up Sam. "Can I help you?" he asked them. Since they weren't fighting, he could see them without an enraged eye and saw that they were identical twins. And they weren't squires, they were knights.

"We saw you last night," the one on the left said, "against the prince."

"We saw you this morning against Ser Loras," the one on the right finished. They weren't handsome with their freckled faces and bright orange hair. But now he could see the purple grapes emblem on their jerkins, which meant they must belong to House Redwyne.

"You must think that you're important with your victories now. But you forget your place."

"My brother and I believe it is our duty to remind you of your place."

"I had sent you running once and I am confident that I can do it again," Jon told them both.

"You had help the last time. You don't now. But we do."

" _That would explain the other six,"_ he thought to himself, noting how they had him encircled. They must've prepared for this. "Are you so angry that you would stoop to having more numbers your enemy in single combat? That is not chivalrous of you." All that earned him was laughter.

"The northern bastard speaks of chivalry," the twin on the right said whilst still laughing. "A jape if I ever heard."

"Yes, it was a jape. But not a very good one," said his brother. "I know one that's much more amusing. Do you know what I am thinking of, brother?"

"Aye, I do."

"What's going on here?" Ser Daemon said loudly as he appeared outside of the ring. Beside him were Prince Quentyn and two other men, one who was bald and one who had blonde hair that looked like sand. They were not armored but Jon could see a sword around Ser Daemon's belt and a shaft of a hammer from behind the bald man.

"Who are you?" the left twin demanded.

It was Quentyn who spoke. "I am Prince Quentyn Martell. This is Ser Daemon Sand, Ser Gerris Drinkwater, and Ser Archibald Yronwood." He gestured to the blonde and the bald man with those last two names. "You carry the grapes of the Arbor so I say you are the sons of Lord Paxter Redwyne. My friend asked you a question: what is going on here?"

The twins shared one look with each before stepping back and keeping their hands away from their arms. "Nothing," the one on the right answered. "Nothing is happening here."

"Then perhaps you should move," Ser Drinkwater suggested, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

The twins and their group disappeared into the tent city, leaving Jon alone with the Dornish. "My thanks, your Highness," he said to Prince Quentyn.

"Think nothing of it," he replied. They left without another word.

The twins did not follow him after that and neither did their men. Walking unscathed through the tents allowed him to find the tent Arya told him to find, resting beneath a banner that was quartered with suns and moons. There he found his little sister scrubbing hard away at a piece of armor. He watched her for a couple of seconds before speaking. "I thought you said you were training to be a knight."

She looked up from her scrubbing and her face morphed into a mixture of happiness and irritation. "Lady Brienne told me that I had to know the armor I'm going to wear before I can actually wear it."

"And so you're cleaning it."

"Yes."

He smiled at her. "I can see you're enjoying it." She stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed, reaching out to muss up her hair.

She swatted the hand away. "Stop that," she told him. But still she smiled.

He pulled his hand away. "Has she shown any techniques with the sword?" he asked, noting two practice swords nearby.

"Some."

He picked up the swords and offered one to her. "Care to show me?" She grinned wildly and took the offered sword with her left hand. He promptly switched his sword hand and they began.

As they fought, he noticed that sword techniques from the Stormlands were different from than what he had learned. Arya kept pushing her attacks, a heavy assault of strikes and cuts. It was like she was determined to finish him off quickly. But he stuck to what Ser Rodrik had taught him, the Northern way of fighting. Don't waste your energy, deflect and parry; only striking when you could. He had learned to stay silent in a fight, keeping his focus on his opponent in such a way as to unnerve them. It had been why he had been successful against both Prince Aegon and Ser Loras.

Their short spar ended when a woman came out of the tent. "What's going on here?" she asked, looking at them both. She was a large woman and nothing like the dainty women that kept finding Jon. If anything, she looked more like she belonged at Bear Island.

Arya dropped her sword immediately. "My lady, I—"

"Your pardon, my lady," Jon said, stopping his sister from possibly putting herself in trouble. "I had asked my sister to show me what you have taught her."

She looked at him. "I can see that. But she was told to clean the armor and that is not what she was doing." She turned her attention to Arya. "If you wish to become a knight worthy of the Kingsguard, you cannot just do what you wish. If you are given a task, you must fulfill it."

"Yes, Lady Brienne," she replied, keeping her gaze focused on her, not looking down at the ground.

"Good. Now return to your task."

She did and began scrubbing the piece of armor vigorously. But Jon was curious about something her teacher had said. "What did she mean by worthy of the Kingsguard?" he asked his sister.

"Prince Aegon promised that I would be one of his seven if I became the greatest knight in the Seven Kingdoms," she explained shortly, keeping her attention on the armor. Her hand went up and down over and over again, scrubbing so hard he thought that her hand would turn red and raw.

But what came out of his mouth was, "You, a Kingsguard? Now that would be a sight to see."

"Aye," she grinned. "Ser Arya Stark, the White Wolf."

"You can't be the White Wolf."

"And why not?" she asked, losing the grin. Her mentor was also eyeing him with a look, as if he meant to say something ill-intended.

He wasn't and never would, not to her. "Nymeria's fur is grey. Ghost is the white one of the six."

The grin back and she chuckled. He did too. Even Brienne smiled, although he was sure that she had no clue what they were talking about. "Hmph, pathetic," a voice said in derision from behind them all. Jon turned and saw Theon's sister standing there.

"Is there something you require, my lady?" Brienne asked her, her arms folding against her chest.

She scoffed. "Do I look like I'm some dainty green lander woman?" she asked them all.

It was obvious that she wasn't, wearing leggings and a man's tunic and jerkin. But so were Brienne and Arya. "I will ask again, is there something you require, my lady?" Brienne asked again.

"I'm not a lady, green lander freak."

"I can see the gold kraken on your tunic. You are of House Greyjoy. You are of noble stock, therefore you are a lady."

She scowled hard. "It is Captain Greyjoy to you. And where are you from?"

"Tarth, my house's namesake," she answered with a calm tone. "And if you persist in being rude, I will have to ask you to leave." Arya stood up and stared down the Greyjoy and Jon joined her.

Captain Asha stared at them all for a second before barking out a laugh. "Interesting," she said. "You're much more interesting than most of the people here. Perhaps I should come back sometime soon."

"Perhaps you should leave," Brienne said.

She turned around but not before saying, "Bastard, follow me."

Jon stayed put. "I think not." She did not look annoyed at his refusal. She just left.

And once she did and Arya got back to her scrubbing with Brienne watching her, Jon took that moment to leave their tent and explore the rest of them. His feet took him on no particular path. But his nose started to lead him to a delicious smell in the air. It smelt like someone was cooking meat in such a way he had never smelt before. It smelt good. His mouth began to water and he imagined tearing into that meat like a wolf killing a hare.

He stopped himself at those thoughts. _"I'm spending too much time with Ghost."_ But that wasn't a bad thing. The direwolf was a loyal, if not silent, companion. All his brothers and sisters were, except they had their voices.

He followed the smell until he came to what he would have called a market. The only kind he had seen was in the winter town and it was similar to what he was seeing now: people selling their wares loudly and trying to outdo everyone else with their voice. He spotted the merchant who was cooking the meat. It was being done slowly over an open fire.

He started to take a step in that direction when he felt a hand on his wrist pulling him back away from the marketplace. His mind whirled with thoughts of panic, believing that those twins had found him again. But when the hand released him and he found his back resting against a wooden pole, he saw that it wasn't the twins. "You-your Highness," he said in surprise as he looked at Princess Rhaenys.

She stood there in a black dress that seemed to make her tanned skin brighter while she watched him. There was a look in her eyes, like she was still deciding to be angry with him. "Jon Snow, I've heard that you insulted my cousin Arianne," she told him.

If she knew, there was no point in arguing it. "I did," he answered. She looked a little surprised by his answer. The expression on her face was obvious.

But it was only a fleeting look. "I have also been told that you insulted her in the defense of my other cousin Quentyn."

"I would like to think that Prince Quentyn and I are on the way to being friend." He wouldn't proclaim it so. He was a bastard and Quentyn was a prince of Dorne. "If you would like me to apologize to your cousin—"

"That is not what I want," she said, stopping him.

"What do you want?"

With no warning, she reached out and kissed him. This was a kiss on the cheek but on the lips. It was a kiss that overwhelmed his senses and seared his lips. He hadn't expected it and almost took a step back from her. But then a growl emitted up from his throat and returned the kiss just as hard. He pushed away from the pole, his hands finding her waist to hold her place. She didn't back down, matching his fervor with her own.

When they finally had to stop for air, it help cleared his head letting him realize what he just did. He had kissed the royal princess when he had no right to it. A panic began to rise in his stomach. He didn't know what was going to happen next. Was she going to have him thrown into the dungeons below the castle?

But all she did was smile at him, a smile that settled the panic into butterflies. "I want you, Jon Snow," she told him. "And I always get what I want."

She turned around and walked away. He did nothing but watch her leave, still feeling her lips on his and the shape of her waist on his hands.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

Tyrion was supposed to fill the role of mentor for Jon's group. He'll have more scenes with any luck and possibly his own chapter. But this is not a story about him, so don't get your hopes up.

I reckon that sword techniques are not all the same in Westeros. They might share common ground in the basics, but after that they go on their own. It would just be a matter of finding the right description for each style. But don't expect me to actually go looking for them.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 12: Rhaenys

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

"The nerve of that boy!" fumed Arianne as she and the princess ate dinner together. There was no feast tonight since the tourney grounds were nearing completion and the builders had to finish it. So Rhaenys chose to have a private little dinner with her cousin.

Now, she was beginning to enjoy it. "Have you laid eyes on another conquest, coz?" she asked playfully. "I didn't think you would break away from the game so soon."

"Don't be clever, Rhae. You know just as well as I do who I am talking about." There was a bite in her voice, showing just how annoyed she was.

But the royal princess was still amused by it all. She did know that her cousin was talking about Jon Snow. "Aye, I do. And I thought you liked your men to have a fiery temper, said that it spiced up the blood."

"If it was like that, then I wouldn't be complaining. That boy cannot take a simple compliment and has the gall to lecture me on family!"

She paused in her eating and looked at her. "Well, what did you say to him that made so mad?" she asked curiously.

Arianne shrugged her shoulders. "It was a trivial thing. I made mention of what the king has said about the Starks and asked him if he was Stark enough to come for me in the night."

"…So you asked a bastard from the North if he was half a beast?" Rhaenys finally asked. Slight disappointment cloaked her voice as she put her fork down. "That was the wrong thing to say, Ari."

"It was a compliment, it's hardly my fault if he couldn't understand it," she huffed out. "And when I told him that Dorne sees bastards, he had the nerve to ask whether if that only meant Dornish bastards or just the Martell bastards."

She tilted her head in slight confusion. "What did he mean by that second part?"

"He made mention about his sister, Jocelyn. Why he said that, I haven't the faintest clue." She leaned back in her chair with a vaguely irritated sigh.

Her cousin thought it over. "It might be the Sand Snakes haven't been treating her well but neither have the rest of us."

"What could you possibly mean by that, Rhae?" she asked, looking across the table at her. "We've welcomed her into our group when she came back to us with no hesitation."

"No, there was some hesitation. It wasn't because she was a bastard but she was half-Northern." She could admit to herself that she was partly to blame herself. She had thought that the North had made her friend weak. She had seemed quite subdued, different from the girl she had used to be. But now she knew that girl was still there, she had just changed.

"You were confused by the second part but not about the first. Why is that?" Arianne asked her, having taken note of that.

"Because I've seen how you and the Sand Snakes treat my handmaiden," she replied archly. "If Dorne truly saw bastards differently, why would you treat Mya like that?"

"She is your handmaiden, how else would we treat her?"

"Yes, she is _my_ handmaiden, not yours or Obara's, or Nym's or Tyene's. I have told you time and time again to leave her be, yet you don't. Why?"

She looked at her with eyes that spoke of her derision and disgust. "You should know why. She's the child of the Usurper. Blood will always tell. It's best to remind her of her place constantly so she does not think herself better than us." She pushed away her chair and stood up. "Come now, the men have probably started talking by now."

Rhaenys stood up too and followed her out of the room. Together they walked down through the castle. It was a tradition of the Woman's game that the women spy on the man they've chosen. That way, they could learn everything there was about him. And since her brother had been around for many playing of the game, he was considerate enough to help them. To disguise it, he would have all the noble sons join him in an informal dinner. Once there, they would talk and the women would listen.

As they walked, they went back to their conversation. "So, you're becoming more and more fascinated with Jon Snow, aren't you?" Rhaenys asked her cousin, her amusement coming back to her voice.

"Did I say that?" she asked back.

"As much without saying," the royal princess told the Dornish one. "Like I said, you like your conquests with spice. He has a different kind of spice to him, wouldn't you say?" She knew that much to be true. Jon Snow did not get angry like most men she had known. He did not yell, only more quiet.

Arianne paused for a moment. Then she kept walking. "Aye, I suppose so. But he still does not have the right to lecture me on family."

"Does that mean I do?" she asked, looking at her cousin with disapproving eyes. "My family has heard of the remark made and the lashing out you and the Snakes have made against Quentyn. Never have I seen my mother look so disappointed."

"His remark was out of line."

"So was what you did. All about a situation that wasn't his fault to begin with." She was disappointed with her cousins for what they did and in her uncle for what he caused when she learned the true story. But she knew Arianne and the Snakes would not do anything about it. As far as they were concerned, they were in the right.

When they reached the ground level, Mya was waiting for them in silence near the staircase. "Well?" Arianne asked her. She stayed silent. "I asked you a question, girl. Are you going to play deaf?" She still stayed silent.

Rhaenys laughed a little. "Remember when I told you that Mya was _my_ handmaiden, coz?" she asked her. Then she turned her attention to Mya. "Where is Aegon holding the dinner, Mya?"

"Out on the ground, my lady, close to the river," she answered promptly. "The other noble ladies are starting to gather, save for the Ladies Stark."

"Sansa Stark isn't coming? How disappointing," Arianne remarked. "Tell me, Mya, I have seen you walk around with her before. Why did you not convince her to come with us this fine night?"

"Because we will be listening in on her bastard brother," Rhaenys told her like she lost her wits.

But she just smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "When has that stopped any of us before? She doesn't have to listen in on him, just the others."

"Your Highness, the Lady Stark has a certain view about the south," Mya spoke up. "And while I do believe that she needs to be corrected about it, I am not in favor of ridding her of it all at once. I leave that in far more capable hands than mine." There was nothing in her voice that betrayed what she was thinking or on her face either. She kept them both decidedly neutral.

But it was enough to make Arianne scowl harder and Rhaenys giggle more. "Thank you, Mya," the Targaryen princess told her handmaiden. "That will be all for tonight. I believe that your cousin is waiting to hear a story from you?"

She smiled slightly and nodded. "Aye, that she is," she agreed, "If you will excuse me." She left them be in the hall. Arianne wanted to say something but Rhaenys opened the door and they both walked out.

They saw the other ladies walking towards Aegon's court. She saw Nym, Tyene, Sarella, and Elia at one point or another amongst other Dornish ladies. They were all silent and the shadows cast from the torches played with their bodies and faces, making them shadows one moment and not there the next. By the time they reached the court, they all had become shadows fully. Giggles abounded in the air as they came close but they became silent quickly.

Aegon held his court at the base of a shelf of rock. Close by was Jocelyn's trueborn cousin, Edric. At the top of the shelf was a grove of trees thick and bathed in shadows from the torches below. There they could safely watch the men without being discovered. Some of them stood where they could but most were content to sit and watch.

Rhaenys's brother sat highest amongst the men there, sitting on a large polished boulder with a goblet in hand. Their uncle Viserys sat close to him. There didn't seem to be a lot of food, only drink which was freely given and shared. The air was filled with their laughter and japing. A good mood hung over them all.

"Oh my," one of the women whispered in surprise. After she spoke, giggles began to echo above them. Rhaenys couldn't blame them. She was tempted to giggle too. She didn't know if it was because of how warm the evening was or because of the torches they put up, but the men were in various state of undress, from a simple untucked tunic to just wear smallclothes pants. (The ones who were already had more weight than muscle on kept their tunics on, Seven have mercy).

It seemed that the Northerners down below seemed to lean towards to the less clothed section. But when Rhaenys found Jon Snow sitting by his own little group, she was disappointed to see he was fully clothed. She was hoping to see him bare his chest. He sat on a small boulder beside the Tarly boy and Quentyn. It looked like he was trying to do his best to stay silent and out of sight without being obvious about it.

But it did not get passed Aegon. He stood up from his seat and walked over to him. "Move over, coz?" he asked Quentyn. Their cousin did just that and Aegon sat down next to Jon.

"Your Highness," Jon said to him, respectful but still surprised that he was there.

"Are you not enjoying all of this?" He gestured widely at the group. Edric walked close by but he did not join them.

He didn't answer right away. "…I did not expect to be here." His voice was subdued, barely able to reach above the noise. It seemed that some of the men from the Stormlands were trying to play a song and were either too drunk or simply not talented enough to be doing very well.

"Did you truly expect to be left out?"

He nodded solemnly. "Yes."

"Do you happen know why you would think such a thought?" He was curious to hear the answer. So was Rhaenys. "And it is not because you are a bastard," he added that quickly.

Jon looked a little off-guard at that proclamation. He must use that reason for so much that it was like he didn't know what else was there. "Um…I bested you in the spar?"

Aegon laughed and the rest of his court laughed with him. "That? That's the reason you are here, Jon Dualfang. It's a refreshing change to have someone to get the better of me. I heard that you've even managed to defeat Ser Loras. That is very impressive."

While he did hear those words, Jon looked stunned. "Dualfang?" he repeated in confusion. His friends looked just as confused but they were looking to him now.

"Aye, Dualfang," Rhaenys's brother told him. "I thought it fitting you can use both of your hands and you are from the North." He swung his head to the court, looking for someone in particular. "Harry, what say you to the name Jon Dualfang?" he shouted out to Jon Arryn's heir while placing his hand on Jon Snow's shoulder.

"It rings well, your Highness!" Harry Hardyng shouted back from where he sat with other young lords of the Vale. Rhaenys had seen him talking with Robb Stark in the past couple of days. She knew that he was trying to bring the old alliance of the Vale and the North back again. She might have been concerned if she didn't know that Harrold was Aegon's friend and that whatever talks he had with Robb Stark didn't come to fruition. He raised the wineskin in his hand and shouted, "To Jon Dualfang!"

Rhaenys was certain she was not the only one who rolled her eyes at their antics. But she did think it was kind of her brother to give Jon Snow a moniker. It would be a step for him to becoming something other than a bastard. "It's a lovely name," one of the other ladies whispered. Whoever she was garbed in shadows.

But then the princess heard a familiar snort. A quick look to her left and she saw Tya Lannister standing in the bush there. Cersei Lannister's daughter always seemed to think herself above the others. Rhaenys could imagine the look of disgust on her face at being forced to hide behind bushes to listen in and took pleasure in it. If she wanted to try and win the game, she had to be in the bush listening in.

The singers finally stopped singing and the song died away. "Thank the gods for that," Viserys said loudly from where he sat, resting his naked back against a stone where the light of the torch played with the shadows on him. "I was wondering when the Redwyne twins were going to stop strangling a cat." He looked over at where the twins stood. "You both have my congratulations for bring a respected profession to new lows."

They all laughed, even when the Redwyne twins turned red with embarrassment. Horror looked as if he wanted nothing better than to break the lute in his hands over Rhaenys's uncle. But before he could do anything that might endanger him or his house, Aegon spoke out. "How about you, uncle?" he asked. "Perhaps you can give us something better? Surely my father's talent with the harp doesn't solely rest in him."

There was the briefest of moments where Rhaenys saw her uncle's face twist itself into an angry look. But then it passed and amusement took its place. "While I can't strangle a cat, I am no musician, Aegon."

The Northerners laughed at that. "Aye, that be true!" one of them, heavily bearded like the rest and bare-chested, said. "Didn't that bard want to throw himself out of the window when you tried playing for him?"

"No, he wanted to hang himself?" another bearded Northerner said.

Viserys looked at them both. "Morgan, Asher, there is no need to be melodramatic about it," he told them both, making them both fall silent. "…He wanted to get run down by stampeding horses." Every single Northerner down there in the court roared openly in laughter.

"Play a song!" someone shouted at them and it soon became a chant.

The chant grew faster and faster before Robb Stark finally agreed, saying, "Very well, we shall play something. Jon, do you have anything new for us?"

" _Oh, this is interesting,"_ Rhaenys thought as all eyes fell upon the bastard. If he was a musician, she would love to hear him play. One look at the other ladies told her that they were thinking the same thing.

"You play an instrument as well?" her brother asked Jon Snow, intrigue peppering his voice. "You seem to be a man of many talents."

To his surprise and hers, the Northerners laughed twice as loud as when they did for Viserys. Even their uncle joined in the laughter. Everyone else looked confused and Jon Snow looked to be embarrassed. "What's so funny?" Quentyn asked.

Viserys managed to calm down some to answer. "Jon's ability to play an instrument makes mine look passable." As soon as he had finished, he broke into laughter again and Jon Snow's cheeks became redder.

"Aye, that's the truth! He can strangle a cat for hours on end without end!" another Northerner shouted in gales of howling.

"It's not that funny," Jon Snow muttered just loud enough to be heard.

"It actually is," Robb told him with a smile that seemed like he was trying hard not to laugh too.

When the laughter did finally die down, Aegon looked over at him. "If you cannot play, why does he ask?"

For some odd reason, the bastard's cheeks turned even redder. "I cannot play music, but I can make it. I have…something of a talent for it."

"Do not be so modest, Jon," Viserys chided him. "Your talent is more than something."

"But how can that be when he can't play?" Edric Dayne asked from where he stood. It seemed that he wanted to join but minded the space between them out of manners.

"I have help from Dom," Jon explained, looking over at the heir to House Bolton. "He provides the actual playing so I can hear it."

"And we actually do have something new for you," Domeric spoke. "It's an easy enough of a piece that I'm sure the others will be able to figure it out." He eyed the other Northerners as he spoke.

"You don't need to lecture us on how to play just because you use secret writing," one of the Northerners who first spoke, Rhaenys thought it was Morgan, said.

"Then you should really stop trying to surprise me when I'm composing," he retorted.

"Alright, alright," Robb Stark said before it went any further. "Let's take a look over what Dom has so we at least know what we're doing." They all gathered around the instruments and listened to what Domeric had to say. No one could hear them as they huddled together.

When they broke apart and began to play, it was different than what they had played. Then it had been loud and bombastic. But this sounded quick and humorous, like a song meant to be played around the campfire. And then Domeric Bolton began to sing, adding to the humor of the song.

 _What would you do if the kettle boiled over?_ _  
_ _What would I do but to fill it again_ _  
_ _What would you do if the cows eat the clover?_ _  
_ _What would I do but to set it again_ _  
_ _The praties are dug and the frost is all over_ _  
_ _Kitty lie over close to the wall_ _  
_ _How would you like to be married to a solider?_ _  
_ _Kitty lie over close to the wall_

 _What would you do if you married a solider?_ _  
_ _What would I do only follow his sword_ _  
_ _What would you do if he died on the ocean?_ _  
_ _What would I do only marry again_ _  
_ _The praties all boil and the herrings are roasted_ _  
_ _Kitty lie over close to the wall_ _  
_ _You to be drunk and I to be sober_ _  
_ _Kitty lie over close to the wall_

 _What would you do if the kettle boiled over?_ _  
_ _What would I do but to fill it again_ _  
_ _What would you do if the cows eat the clover?_ _  
_ _What would I do but to set it again_ _  
_ _The praties are dug and the frost is all over_ _  
_ _Kitty lie over close to the wall_ _  
_ _How would you like to be married to a solider?_ _  
_ _Kitty lie over close to the wall_

When the song ended, the men applauded and the women nodded appreciatively, their eyes on Jon Snow. "You write an interesting song, Dualfang," Aegon remarked.

"I was inspired by some of the ditties I heard from the mountain clans," he replied, making it sound like he was saying was nothing of too great importance.

"Do you have any other songs?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm still working on a few. But I think Domeric has a song ready. Dom!" he called out to the Bolton. "Is that song of yours ready?"

"No. And I'm not going to play it here," he called back.

"And why is that?" a giant of a man demanded. The hair on his chest had to be as thick as the hair on his head.

"It's a song for the ladies."

"We already have one of those! Jon Snow wrote it!" For some odd reason, the bastard could not look anyone in the eye at that. It was interesting. Rhaenys made a note of it.

"I said _ladies_ , Smalljon, not women!" he shouted at the giant, seemingly annoyed. The giant just laughed loudly at his expression.

"Let's quit all this talk of songs and music!" Harry Hardyng declared. "We should speak of something much more interesting and satisfying: women!"

"Aye, I'll drink to that!" the Smalljon roared, holding his cup high. His sentiment was echoed by most of the men there. Those who were boys looked confused. Willas Tyrell must've seen their confusion and herded them away.

Being a woman herself, Rhaenys did not enjoy listening to them describing the kind of woman they liked. Her cousins might enjoy something like this but she found it to be a bit uncouth and insulting, especially if the man was betrothed. She almost began to tune it out until the flow was directed to the Northerners. Then she forced herself to listen. _"If you don't, you will not learn what you need,"_ she told herself.

"How about you, squiddy?" one of the men of the Westerlands shouted to Theon Greyjoy. "What kind of woman do you like?"

A faint rustling in the bush nearby told the princess where Elia Sand was watching and she just knew her eyes would be lit with anticipation. Theon considered the question from where he stood beside Robb Stark. He had no tunic on but there was a bandage wrapped around his side. It seemed out of place. Had there been a battle before the Northerners reached Riverrun? She wasn't the only one who noticed.

Finally, he chose to answer. "I like a woman with some meat on her bones, not thin as a twig," he said with a lewd grin, waving his hands through the air for emphasis.

"No, the thin ones are the best!" one of the Stormlanders shouted out.

"And how would you know that?" he shouted back. "Did a maid show you what she had because you were curious?"

"Aye, and she made me a man too!" Shouts of laughter and catcalls erupted at that proclamation. Rhaenys just rolled her eyes. She knew what would come next, having heard it many times before.

True to form, they didn't disappoint. They started talking about the various women that they have had. Most were whores and if they weren't whores, they were maids in the castle. Once she might've blushed deeply listening to this kind of talk, or she might've listened with interest to learn what could be learned. But now, it had grown boring.

A quick look at her cousin told her that she was interested. Rhaenys couldn't understand why that would be, not when they've heard this kind of information so many times before. The only ones who would be new were the Northerners and it would amount to the same thing. Some looked proud, some looked disinterested, saying it was some woman, and some looked sheepish (like Robb Stark) about the women they've bedded. It was all the same to her.

"How about you, Jon Snow?" asked Edric Dayne, getting her attention. She wasn't the only one. All the ladies focused their attention on the bastard of Lord Stark.

He looked embarrassed, cheeks flushed with redness. "Me?" he repeated.

"Aye, you," Aegon said, joining in. "Tell us of the women you've had."

"I…" He trailed off, looking even more embarrassed.

Rhaenys's brother stared at him as did the rest of everyone there. "You have had a woman before, haven't you?"

"Of course he has," Viserys spoke out. "Theon and I took him to the brothel in the winter town for his nameday."

"Aye, that we did," Theon agreed. "We got him the finest whore there!"

" _What exactly qualifies as the finest up in the North?"_ the princess couldn't help but think, _"The one with the least amount of fleas on her?"_ She knew that she wasn't the only one who was thinking about it. All it took was one quick look around the bush to confirm that the others were thinking the same thing.

Yet Jon Snow didn't say anything that agreed with what they said. He didn't even make eye contact with either of them. Viserys saw that and a frown came onto his face. "You did sleep with Ros, didn't you?" he asked.

"Um…well…" the bastard stuttered.

The Greyjoy heir was now looking at him. There was confusion on his face but then it was quickly replaced with surprised realization. "You _didn't_!?" he all but shouted, making everyone look at him with renewed interest.

Jon Snow could not look any of them in the eye. He couldn't even speak. He just stared down at the ground. "If you didn't sleep with Ros, why did she come out later and told that us you were quite the person?" Viserys asked him.

"I…I apologized to her for making her going through all that trouble and to keep the money before slipping out the back." he answered, the words coming out in a jumbled rush. Neither of the two said anything in regard to him. No one else did. He took that opportunity to leave quickly. By the time any one of Aegon's court actually realized what he was doing, he was gone.

So were the women. Rhaenys and Arianne followed Jon as he walked down to the riverbank. Once there, his quick feet took him away from the court, following the river upstream and leaving Aegon's court behind. They watched from a distance and they could hear the rest of the ladies doing exactly the same thing. Soon, he came to a stop and faced the river.

They all waited for him to do something but the sound of wood rapping against the bank made him to the right, from where he had walked. He whipped his head in that direction. "Who's there?" he called out into the darkness.

"It's quite alright, it is only me," said Willas Tyrell as he walked to him. He had been at the court, sitting close to Ser Loras. While his brother had looked annoyed at all the attention placed onto Jon Snow, he just looked faintly amused. Perhaps he had come to continue his amusement?

"Lord Tyrell," said Jon, bowing his head in respect.

"Lord Tyrell is my father. Tonight, I am simply Willas," he said simply. He only stood a few feet away from the boy, leaning heavily on his cane. "I must say none of us expected anyone to admit that they were still a maiden. But since you have, my curiosity has been aroused. May I ask a question of you?"

"Yes," the bastard replied.

"Why are you still a maiden? If Prince Viserys had gone through all the trouble, on your nameday no less, why did you refuse?"

He didn't say anything but the heir to Highgarden waited quietly and patiently. Finally, as if he could not take the silence anymore, he spoke. "I made a promise to myself that I would never sire a bastard of my own. I have seen what it has done to my lord father and his lady wife."

"I see. Thank you, Jon Dualfang." He turned and left without another word, leaving the bastard to stare out at the river.

Rhaenys could barely see his face in the darkness but when the moon came out and shone down upon him, she could see him clearly. There was a tight look of anger, guilt, and sadness all mixed together there. It looked like he was both asking why the gods had treated him so and yet, also blaming himself for it all. She knew that Lady Catelyn was a proud woman who loved her family fiercely, but surely she wouldn't take her displeasure out on Jon Snow because of his birth? She remembered that it wasn't just him, it was also Jocelyn.

"Seven save me," Arianne whispered with a strangled breath. That was when Rhaenys remembered this would be the first time the other ladies saw him under the light of the moon. She couldn't help an amused smirk grace her lips.

But that smirked turned to jealously when she heard someone whisper, "He's gorgeous."

"Aye, he is," another agreed. While the Targaryen princess was glad to know that she wasn't the only one who knew the truth now, she did not enjoy them eyeing him like she knew they would.

" _The game,"_ she reminded herself. _"You have to at least try to make it look like they have a sporting chance."_ But it wasn't likely that they would. Still, looking at Jon now, she knew that it was more than just the light of the moon that made them realize the truth. It was also his look, his somberness, his understanding of his own family, and his guarded eyes too. To her, he looked to be like a man of sorrows and it made her heart break a little. She had the urge to rush out and comfort him, telling him that he wasn't alone and that he would be loved.

"I see what my aunt was talking about now," Arianne whispered to her. "I find myself wanting Jon Snow more now than we began."

" _You won't have him,"_ she silently replied, but outwardly she said, "You would take him even if he's a maid? I thought you preferred your men with experience."

"We all have to start somewhere. I'm sure that he'll enjoy it."

She frowned. That was not the reaction she wanted. "You will not win, coz. I will."

"So you say," she remarked carelessly.

"You!" someone else shouted from the darkness, further up the riverbank. Jon turned his head to see and so did they.

Rhaenys could only see only a few feet ahead while the rest lay in darkness. But the person the voice belonged to came out into the light of the moon. She was instantly recognizable. _"Is that…Cersei Lannister?"_

It certainly seemed like Tya's mother and she was walking with a slight stumble she didn't usually have. Her wavering from side to side also told her that she had drunk probably a little too much wine. But she was bearing down on Jon Snow. "They said that you weren't coming," she said once she reached him.

"My lady?" he said, confused.

"They said you stayed in Winterfell. Were you too afraid to face me?" she demanded, towering over him. "You were right to fear that. You wronged a lioness of the Rock all those years ago. How could you choose that slut over all the other noble ladies? How could you choose her over me?"

Rhaenys was confused, just as much as she saw her cousin and the bastard were. "My lady, I think you are confusing me for someone else," Jon told her.

His words seemed to have an effect on her. She stepped back, keeping her eyes on him. "How is it you've stayed so young all this time?" she demanded, her beautiful face morphing into a harsh glare. "Is this some Northern sorcery? Tell me, Stark!"

" _Stark?"_ thought Rhaenys in confusion. It turned into realization quickly enough. Cersei thought he was his father, Eddard Stark. If it had been other time, she might've found it amusing.

"My name is not Stark, my lady," he told Cersei, unable to hide the slight bitterness in his voice. "It's Snow."

"You lie. I know those features." A small drunken giggle escaped her lips. It sounded really unsettling. "People said your brother was the handsome one. They are fools." She cupped his cheek. "You are still as handsome as you were at Harrenhal."

"My—" That was all he was able to say before she leaned down and kissed him hard on the lips.

Rhaenys froze at the sight. Her body felt like ice had coated over. But then it was replaced by fire. A burning rage engulfed her as she watched the Lannister kiss him. _"How dare she?"_ she screamed in her head. She stood up, fully intent on marching out of cover and drowning that bitch in the river.

But before she could even take a single step, another voice spoke inside her. _"What will Jon Snow think? How will you explain your being there?"_ She couldn't well explain that she just happened to be nearby. He wouldn't accept it and in turn, would get suspicious. She didn't move from her spot. Instead, she looked over at Tya Lannister. She looked just as shocked. They all were. Their only solace was that Jon Snow did not seem to be enjoying the kiss.

It was only when they heard the sound of wolves growling and snarling that something happened. All six of the direwolves burst out of the shadows and raced towards the bank. They pushed themselves in between the two, surrounding Jon Snow like a furry wall. Surprised by the sudden appearance of them, Cersei stumbled back and with a surprised shout, fell on her rear in the shallow water of the river.

Despite wanting so much to giggle at the bitch's misfortune, Rhaenys didn't and neither did anyone else. Doing so would give away what they were doing out there and that would ruin the game. Instead, they continued to watch Jon. He wasn't trying to help Cersei out of the water like a proper knight might've done. He was too busy trying to keep the wolves under control. It proved to be a losing fight as they urged him away from the bank and into the shadows.

They were all left there in the cover of the bushes. The princess didn't have to look around to know that there were looks of confusion on everyone's faces. "Should we follow?" one of the younger ladies asked.

"No," she answered. "We've seen enough tonight. And we probably don't want to be around him while those wolves are near." She looked over at the younger Lannister again. "You should probably fish your mother out of the water, Lady Tya, lest she tries to prove that she's actually a Tully."

Tya Lannister stomped out of the bush with an irritated expression on her face whilst muffled giggles followed like an irritating puppy. And while she got her mother back onto the bank, everyone else vanished away.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

Again, that song is not one of my creation, I'm not that creative. It's a song from the Chieftains called "The Frost is All Over." However, I had to change a word to make it sound like it belonged in the time.

Personally, I would've found it a little interesting to know that a person could write music but could not play an instrument to save his life. I don't know if that's an actual thing in real life or not. If it is, let me know.

We are all aware of the maiden of sorrow concept. It's usually followed by the man coming to rescue said maiden atop a white stallion. What I want to do with Jon Snow is basically take that concept and apply it to the male gender. It would give the ladies a chance to feel heroic and paint the image of him standing under the moonlight in their minds.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 13: Mya

"Talking"

 _"_ _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

She walked quietly behind her cousin and Lady Sansa as they traveled through the castle to the courtyard. Shireen was in a good mood as she talked to Lady Sansa. They both laughed at a little story Shireen was spinning. Mya was happy for her cousin. She was a happy child but the times that she acted like the child she was supposed to be were few and far between. When she finished her story, Lady Stark smiled at her. "That was a wonderful story, Lady Shireen," she told her. "You have a talent for telling them."

"Thank you," Shireen said with a beaming smile. Then she turned her head back. "What did you think of it, Mya?" she asked.

Lady Sansa looked back too, her eyes shining with innocent curiosity. Mya considered her for a moment. If she had been trueborn, no doubt someone would've remarked how they seemed to be their fathers come again. But instead they seemed to settle for somewhat curious looks whenever she was with Lady Sansa. Her mother didn't seem to approve exactly, but she didn't say anything. "It was a good story, Shireen," she told her cousin.

She beamed even wider at that, pride showing on her face. Then she turned to Lady Sansa, a hopeful look on her face. "Might I ask a favor of you, Lady Sansa?" she asked. "May I see your direwolf?"

There was only a moment of hesitation with the Stark girl before she said, "Of course. You needn't fear Lady. She is kind and gentle."

"Much like you," she replied. "Perhaps she takes after her."

"Shireen, she is a direwolf," Mya said quietly to her as they stepped out into the courtyard. The godswood was in sight. "You must be careful."

"There is no need to worry, Mya. So long as we are with Lady Sansa, we will be—"

No sooner as she started speaking that a black blur came bounding out of the godswood and right at them. It was the black wolf its green eyes alight with something and its jaws snapping. It came to a stop in front of them, watching them all. "Shaggydog, go to Rickon," Lady Stark ordered the beast.

It ignored her, choosing to look at Mya and her cousin. "Shireen, get behind me," Mya told her, stepping up to protect her. If the wolf attacked, she could fend it off long enough for her cousin to get away safely. The wolf snapped its head to her; its lips peeling back to reveal long teeth.

But Shireen did not back away. Instead, she stood her ground and placed her hands on her hips. "Stop that," she told the wolf crossly, "It's very rude." The teeth vanished and the direwolf turned its attention to her. It looked at her, tilting its head to the side. "Sit," she commanded, pointing the ground.

Much to both Mya's and Lady Sansa's surprise, the direwolf obeyed. It sat down on its haunches and whined. It had gone from a fearsome creature to a dog seeking attention. _"Seven hells,"_ Mya couldn't help but think to herself. Another direwolf padded out of the godswood and went to Lady Sansa's side. It was probably her direwolf.

Shireen just smiled. "Good wolf." Before anyone could stop her, she reached out and scratched the direwolf behind the ears. It actually leaned into her hand and panted happily. The other two could just watch in stunned surprise at the scene.

"SHAGGY!" screamed Lady Sansa's little brother as he came running out of the godswood. He skidded to a halt and stared at his wolf and Shireen. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"I'm scratching his ears," Shireen replied, still scratching the ear. From behind the little lord, a tall woman appeared.

"Stop doing that!" he ordered.

"Why? He likes it." The direwolf still panted, its tongue lolling out of its mouth.

The little lord frowned unhappily. "Shaggy, come here!" he said, pointing at the ground in front of him. The direwolf did as it was commanded, although reluctantly it seemed to Mya.

The woman seemed amused. "It's seems the girl can tame your wolf, little lord," she told him. "You might want to consider stealing her when you grow up a bit so you know where she is."

"Osha, you shouldn't say such things!" Sansa admonished her, even though her face was a bright red. "They're too young for that."

"Aye, but it's something to think on later," she replied.

"Why would she do something like that?" Rickon demanded, looking at Shireen accusingly as he held onto his direwolf tightly.

"Do what?" she asked, confused at his accusation.

He clutched the wolf tighter, making it whine. "Take Shaggy like that! He's mine!"

"I didn't mean to," she tried to say.

"You did!"

"Rickon, behave yourself," Sansa said sharply. He glared at her, making his direwolf growl. That prompted her direwolf to start to growl.

It looked like things would escalate, until Shireen looked at both wolves and said firmly, "Stop it." The growling vanished right away, the wolves somehow managed to look embarrassed and ashamed, and their owners just looked at her in surprise.

The wilding barked out a curt laugh. "Seems like the little lady has more of a skinchanger's skill than either of you and you're the ones with the wolves," she told Lady Sansa and Lord Rickon.

 _"_ _Was that an insult or a compliment?"_ Mya couldn't help but wonder as she looked at the wilding. It sounded like a compliment but from the stories she had heard about skinchangers and wargs, it could very well be an insult.

"Do you really think so?" Shireen asked her voice filled with curiosity.

"I haven't the foggiest clue. Got you blood of the First Men?" the wilding asked her.

"I-um-I do not know?" she said back. "I come from House Baratheon, who come from Aegon the Conqueror's Hand, Orys Baratheon." She frowned as her voice fell silent.

Mya knew that she was trying to think of something more to say but couldn't find the words. "Before that, you can claim descent from House Durrandon. They were the Storm Kings before Aegon landed," she supplied. She knew enough of her father's house to know that, even though she had never been to Storm's End.

Her cousin brightened up at that. "Thank you, Mya."

"Were they descended from the First Men?" Lady Sansa asked, looking at her curiously.

"I…I don't know," she admitted sadly.

Wanting to help her, Mya spoke. "I think that Lord Tyrion Lannister might know." He had been to the capital and was known to read a lot (as well as drink and fuck).

Shireen looked at her with a determined look. "Let's go find him!"

She blanched at the thought. _"Please don't let him be with a whore,"_ she silently prayed. That was one thing her cousin did not need see at this age. That and she knew that her lord uncle would not let it pass lightly. "As you command, cousin," she said in deference. Now there was just a matter of finding him.

"Where is he?" Rickon asked, like he was expecting the Imp to pop right out of a bush.

Shireen looked at him. "We'll have to find him. Come on." She raced away in, down the courtyard. Mya followed at a hurried pace so she could keep her cousin in sight. She heard footsteps behind her, so she assumed the others were following.

As luck would have it, the first person they came across happened to be the Imp's brother. Shireen came to a stop before as he was walking across the courtyard, allowing the rest to catch up to her. "Good morn to you, Ser Jaime," she said politely.

He looked down at her like he had just seen. "Lady Baratheon, a pleasure," he said with a grace and charm that Mya could tell was fake instantly. Then he saw her. "Bastard," he said in greeting a smile.

"Kingslayer," she greeted back as the others came up behind.

"The Lord and Lady Stark with their wolves and a serving wench. This is a rare honor," he said. "Is there something you need?"

"Do you happen to know where your brother is, ser?" Shireen asked politely.

There was a small look of surprise on his face at that question. "Tyrion?" he asked, "Why?"

"The little lady has a question for him," the wilding answered.

He turned his attention to her, an irritated look coming across his face briefly. "I was speaking to the girl, not you, woman." The black direwolf started to growl as Lord Rickon began to look angry.

But she just laughed. "If you're going to insult me, try harder, kneeler."

"Ser Jaime, your brother is well known for his knowledge, yes?" Shireen asked him.

He tore his gaze off the wilding and looked down at her. "Aye, he devours books like the prince devours food." For some odd reason, that made both the Starks giggle, the babe more than Lady Sansa. He continued on, ignoring them, "What exactly do you need of Tyrion, my lady?"

"I wish to ask him if my house comes from the First Men or just the Andals."

"Strange question," he remarked, mostly to himself. To her he said, "He said something about enjoying himself down by the riverbank."

Mya knew what those words meant. "Then we will find him another time," she said, placing her hand on her cousin's shoulder. "We apologize for taking up your time, ser."

To that, he laughed. "You needn't worry. He seems to be enjoying the company of Lord Stark's bastard son nowadays. That is who I suspect he is meeting by the river."

"You have my thanks, Ser Jaime," Shireen told him with a curtsy. She looked at everyone else and said, "Come on!" She took off for the gate and the group followed her.

Mya stood behind, almost caught off guard by her cousin's sudden run. But her surprise turned to silent amusement as everyone charged past. It seemed like the wilding was enjoying as much as she was. Once they were past, she started to follow them. "If a stranger happened upon this sight just now," the Kingslayer remarked, "they would've thought her to be the Usurper's daughter and you were Stannis's child."

She froze in place. Anger began to burn inside her chest, her blood yelling for her to do something. But she refused to let it take control. If she lashed out, it would bring down repercussions on her, the princess, and her cousin's family. She may be a bastard but she would never allow that. "You would know better than I, ser," she replied coldly. "You have met my father."

"Aye, once or twice," he said dismissively.

"More times than me," she said, "Your pardon." She walked away from him, not wanting to continue the conversation anymore. _"How is it that two brothers are so different?"_ she asked herself as she caught up to Shireen's group. While she somewhat enjoyed the company of the Imp, his brother couldn't seem to say anything that wasn't sarcastic or ill-meaning in some way. But they both paled in comparison to their sister. The less said about her and her eldest daughter, the better. Her son was a little better and probably could be more so, if he was able to get away from them in time.

She reached Shireen and followed silently at the back as they crossed the training yard. There, they saw a Dornish girl practicing with a spear. Mya saw it was Elia Sand and hoped that they would be able to cross the yard without further incident. But it seemed like the gods would have none of it. "Who are you?" the Red Viper's daughter demanded when she saw them, stopping her practicing.

"Good day to you," Shireen said politely, coming to a stop.

She just walked closer to them, placing the shaft of her spear on the ground with authority she didn't have. "I said who are you?"

Mya walked to the front, to stand before her cousin as her shield. "You know me, Elia Sand."

She tilted her nose up in an arrogant air. "That's _Lady_ Elia to you, bastard."

Those words didn't worry her. "You are a bastard, same as me." The Red Viper's daughter glared at her, but she continued on with no worry. "We have no business with you. We are on our way to the riverbank to find Lord Tyrion. If you will excuse us," she said curtly, motioning for the others to follow her.

But Elia's spear blocked her path before she could even take a step. "I have not excused you."

The wilding strode forward and looked the spear fully. "You got a nice weapon there," she said.

Mya could see that it was a beautiful weapon. The shaft was made of dark, hardened oak. The blade shined bright in the sun, making the snake twisting up the shaft seem black. "It is," its wielder said, "better than any a stupid Northerner will see or hold."

She just grinned at her "Ain't no Northerner, girl, nor a kneeler," she said. "I was a spearwife from beyond the Wall, 'till the Starks caught me that is."

Elia just snorted in derision. "I'm surprised you were caught by that traitorous family. You must not have been a good warrior if that had happened."

"I was decent enough, especially since I remembered my first lesson well," she said pleasantly.

"And what would that have been?"

The pleasant look was still on her face when she grabbed the spear and pulled it out of her hand. Elia took a step back, her face showing her surprise. Then it turned to anger and she took that step forward. But instead of taking her spear back, she found its blade resting just under her chin, the tip resting against her throat. "Never let your enemy take your weapon."

She looked down at the blade and then at her again, anger shining bright in her eyes. "Give that back," she commanded. "It's mine."

"It was. Now it's mine."

"Give it back!"

The wilding pulled the blade away, only to strike her across the head with the other end. "No." She hefted the spear onto her shoulder and looked at the rest of them. "Are we going to the river?"

"That will come back to haunt you," Mya told her as they left the yard and the Sand Snake behind.

"I ain't worried about a kneeler," she replied, the spear still on her shoulder.

"You should be worried about her family, House Martell."

"Big family, are they?"

"They rule Dorne. They're close to each other."

She snorted in derision and spat on the ground, well out of the way of the others. "Not so close if they tear down one of their own."

Mya looked sharply at her. "How—?" she tried to ask.

"I got eyes, girl, and I watch. You kneelers seem to forget that people are watching."

She silently disagreed with that for she was one of the watchers. That was why she saw no point in continuing the talk. When they did reach the riverbank, they saw Jon Snow sparring against Prince Quentyn. It wasn't a normal spar with swords. Rather, it was a sword against a spear. The prince wielded his spear like a serpent's tongue, flickering and striking so fast that she almost couldn't see it. Yet Jon Snow kept his pace against him, matching his sword against the spear.

They fought at the edge of the bank while the rest of them watched them from the rocks. Highest among them was the Imp with a drinking horn in hand. Shireen wasted no time in scrambling down to the bank. "Lord Tyrion!" she called out. Rickon and Shaggydog followed her quickly while Osha followed them. She and Lady Sansa walked at a more sedated pace, her direwolf trotting along.

Her call made the men, even those who were sparring, stop and look at her. "Lady Baratheon," the Imp said in greeting, "A pleasure meeting you here. Is there something you require?"

"I have a question for you." The rest of the group joined her. Both direwolves shot off and circled Jon Snow as he came back up the bank. Prince Quentyn took a discreet step to the side so he wouldn't get bowled over by Lady.

"A question, how interesting," Tywin Lannister's youngest son said. He paused to drink from the horn. "And what sort of question would it be? It must be a good one for you to have such a group. Have you noticed your brother and sister are here, bastard?" he asked Jon Snow.

"I have," he said back. The wolves were still circling around him while his own just watched from the rock it sat on nearby. He tried pushing them aside carefully as he walked up to the others but they kept close.

Prince Quentyn walked beside him, close enough to talk but not so close that the wolves could bite him. "A good fight, Jon," he said.

The bastard inclined his head to him. "I am honored for the opportunity, your Highness." His voice did show his gratitude. "You have skill with a spear."

"Now that we've gotten that out of the way, what was your question, my lady?" the Imp asked Shireen.

She looked at him earnestly. "I heard that you have read many books."

"That I have."

"Have you read any books on my house?"

He nodded. "I have, on occasion. Why?"

"Could you tell me if I come from Andals alone or do I have the blood of the First Men in me too?" she asked.

Mya watched quietly as all eyes fell on the Imp. At first, he didn't seem to have heard the question. Instead he just drank from his horn and burped nosily. "An interesting question, my lady," he told her cousin. "Might I ask what brought this about?"

The youngest Stark was the one to ask rather than Shireen. "She stole Shaggy!" he cried, pointing an accusing finger at her. His direwolf perked his head at the sound of his name but remained by the feet of his bastard brother.

"Rickon, you're speaking to a lady," his sister scolded him.

"But she stole him!"

"She did not. All she did was order Shaggydog to sit."

This seemed to be getting out of hand and Mya chose to get back on track. "She ordered the direwolf and it obeyed, Lord Tyrion," she said to the dwarf. "Afterwards, the wilding," she gestured politely to Osha, "remarked that she might be a better skinchanger then either Lord Rickon or Lady Sansa. When my lady cousin wanted to know if she was telling the truth, she asked if she had the blood of the First Men in return."

"I see." He took another drink from his horn. "As it happened, I've done some extensive reading on the history and lineages of the Great Houses. So I can tell you with the absolute authority, Lady Shireen, that House Baratheon, and before them House Durrandon, do hail from the First Men."

Shireen brightened up at that and smiled. "Truly?" she asked.

He smiled a small smile in return. "Yes," he replied, nodding his head. "Until the Andals invaded, House Durrandon was a house of First Men. It was only when the Storm King Maldon IV took an Andal maiden as his bride and wife that it changed. Their firstborn son grew to become king once his father had died and was crowned King Durran, the Twenty Fourth of his name. Even then he was called Durran Halfblood and he continued what his father had done by taking an Andal woman to wife."

They all stood or sat there, enraptured by his voice. Something about the Imp changed when he told a story. Mya didn't know what it was; only that it was an ability to hold a crowd's attention with just his words. "So what the wilding said is true then?" she asked.

"Yes, it is. An interesting fact is that the majority of the Great Houses are descended from the First Men."

The proclamation surprised all the people there. They all stared at the Imp like he had just proclaimed he was the avatar of the Seven come to walk among them. "They are?" Prince Quentyn finally asked.

"They are," he said, drinking from his horn. "It's not a great number, I'll admit, only five to the remaining three. But the fact is still there."

"What are the houses?" Mya asked. If she had been reserved about her curiosity, she wasn't showing any now.

"Well House Stark is one, obviously. And we've already established that House Durrandon and by extension House Baratheon is the second. The third and fourth would be mine own house, House Lannister, and House Tully respectively, while the last would be House Greyjoy."

Lady Sansa frowned. When she spoke, her voice was full of polite chastisement. "I'm afraid you are wrong regarding my mother's house, Lord Tyrion. House Tully is a house of Andal blood. My mother prays to the Seven."

"If praying established where we came from, I think I should've been born in Lys," the Imp replied, regarding her with a look. What he said escaped Lady Sansa and most of the people there. The people who did know what he meant tried their best to hide their chuckles, with varying success. (Mya was one of them). "However, I am correct in this, my lady. House Tully was indeed a house that hailed from the First Men. It is only after the Andals invaded and they bent the knee to them that they started becoming Andal themselves by taking their women for wives."

"What about House Tyrell?" Prince Quentyn asked him. "They always talk about how they are descended from Garth Greenhand and House Gardener."

"An excellent point, your Highness," he acknowledged. "However, while they do claim that they come from House Gardener and said house was definitely of the First Men, the founder of House Tyrell was most assuredly Andal, just like the founder of your house, Morgan Martell." His voice was not reprimanding like a lord shouting to a servant who did a job poorly nor was it lecturing. He did however somehow manage to make the words sound like they were a jest and everyone chuckled, even Prince Quentyn.

As they stopped with the chuckling, they heard the sound of feet marching in unison towards them. It only took Mya one look back to see who it was and then groan at the sight of it. _"Oh no,"_ she thought to herself. It was Elia Sand and not only had she brought her older sisters but her trueborn cousin too.

It was Lady Sansa who reacted the first, curtsying when they were close enough. "Princess Arianne, good day to you and your cousins," she said with perfect manners. Strangely enough, the direwolves stared at the heir to Dorne with something unusual in their eyes. If they had been human, Mya would've called it suspicion.

Princess Arianne returned the curtsy. She was the only one. "And a good day to you, Lady Stark," she said back before turning her gaze on the entire group. Her eyes resting on Jon Snow for a moment longer then needed and the wolves became much tenser. "What's happening here?"

"We're having a rousing conversation on the linages of our houses," the Imp told her. "Would you like to join us?"

"My cousins and I did not come here to talk about the past, my lord," she said sweetly but that poisonous tone Mya knew very well.

"What a shame. I find that a woman's presence can make any sort of conversation stimulating. It is sad to see that you do not agree, your Highness." He was most certainly mocking her and Mya was silently glad for it.

"Be quiet, Imp. This doesn't concern you," Obara Sand snapped at him. While he didn't look particularly shocked at that, everyone seemed to be shocked for him. She ignored the looks and focused her attention on the wilding. "You," she said. "You have something that belongs to my sister."

"Are you talking about this?" Osha asked, hefting the spear's butt down to the ground.

"That's mine!" Elia Sand shouted in indignation.

"It used to be. Now it's mine."

Nymeria began to reach for her whip. "It belongs to Elia," she said. "Give it back to her, you stupid barbarian, and we'll let you leave relatively unscathed." Her sisters and cousin seemed to silently agree with her words. The wilding just looked amused at the entire scene. But Mya noticed her stance was no longer relaxed. It was like she was waiting for the fight to begin. And it seemed like her attitude had gotten the attention of the wolves, for they were getting more restless.

The group of men was beginning to stand up from where they had been resting and lounging. They probably thought themselves ready for an attack but they had no actual weapons to fight with while the Sand Snakes did. But before it could even get that far, Prince Quentyn spoke out. "Let me see that spear, please" he told Osha.

She looked down at him, as did everyone else. "Why should I?" she asked him. Out of the corner of Mya's eye, she could've sworn that she saw a look of concern on Arianne's face.

"I said please?" he said, although his manner made sound more like a question. But it seemed to be enough for her as she lifted the spear off the ground and held it out for him. He took in one hand and looked at it with a careful eye. "This used to be mine. It was given to Elia when I had gotten too big for it."

The wilding looked unimpressed by that. "And now, it's mine."

He looked at her and then at the spear. "It is a bit small for you, wouldn't you say?" The spear she had taken could barely reach her shoulder when its shaft rested against the ground. But it seemed to Mya that she didn't look that bothered by it. But what the prince said next was surprising. "Would you prefer mine instead?"

He offered his own spear, which was longer then Elia's by a good foot and was made of much better material in wood and steel. Everyone looked at him like he had lost his wits. All except for Osha. "Are you offering me the chance to take it from you, kneeler boy?" she asked.

"No, I'm offering it as a gift," he corrected her. His family looked even more shocked when he said that. The looks quickly turned to anger but they didn't do anything, yet. Mya knew well enough that one wrong move could set them off.

Osha considered the spear being offered to her by the boy for a quiet second longer. Then she took it. She spun it once, mostly likely to get a feel for it. "Good balance and it fits nicely in my hand," she remarked, placing the shaft on her shoulder. "Thanks."

He nodded once to her. He walked over to where his family stood together and offered the spear to Elia Sand. She took it with a snatching motion and he spoke out. "Your business is done here."

His sister was bordering on enraged. "How dare you turn your back on us like this?" she demanded. The Sand Snakes looked just as enraged as their cousin.

But he remained calm. "I did not turn my back. I gave a gift to prevent trouble. Trouble of which you are trying to stir up," he told her. His voice wasn't an accusing one, only a calm one.

But everyone was watching him now, those who knew him well more than anyone else. Mya saw something changing in Prince Quentyn. She had known him to be a shy boy, more awkward then talkative in the presence of others. She had always put that down to the feeling of being the brother to the princess and cousin to the Sand Snakes bearing down on his shoulders. She had heard of the remark and how they lashed out against him for it. He hadn't deserved it and yet he hadn't done anything about it, until now.

It made her wonder what caused this quiet defiance to happen. She looked at the group that he had become a part of since coming to Riverrun. Perhaps it was them that caused this change? If they were, perhaps it was the start of something more. "Well," Tyrion said from his seat, still holding his horn, "now that is all said and done, perhaps we can return to our delightful conversation. Shall you join us, Prince Quentyn?"

"Stay out of this, Imp!" Obara Sand snapped at him. "This doesn't concern you." Her sisters and cousin nodded in agreement as they kept their gaze on Arianne's brother.

Strangely enough, it was Osha who broke the tension in the air. "Leave the kneeler boy alone now," she said walking to his side. "He already said it was a gift. That's the end of it."

The Red Viper's eldest daughter lifted up her spear and pointed its tip at her, an inch away from her nose. "If you wish to die, keep speaking. This doesn't concern you."

She looked at the spear and laughed without fear. She laughed as she brushed aside the blade. "You know the difference between us, kneeler?" she asked pleasantly. "I could see it right away. You've never killed anyone, have you?" She paused, waiting for a reply. But all Obara did was glare at her. "I thought not. Well, unlike you, I have killed. I've killed on both sides of the Wall." She cast a derisive look at the Sand Snake. "You're no warrior, just some girl playing around with a spear, just like her." She turned the look to Elia Sand, who shrank a little underneath her gaze.

Then she did the most audacious thing Mya ever thought one could do: she turned her back on them and walked away. Quentyn was half a heartbeat behind her, walking back over to the group. Everyone relaxed once they were back amongst them. "Excellent," Lord Lannister said, "Now, where were we?"

As the talk continued, everyone joined in and argued about what house belonged where when it came to blood. Mya just watched her cousin in silence as she listened and talked. It was nice to see the men there talk to her with respect and courtesy, not see her as a daughter of a traitor. She looked quickly back at where Princess Arianne and her cousins stood. They all had a look of astonished anger. That was hardly surprise since this was probably the first time they were ignored in such a fashion, even more so by their own blood. They stood there for a few seconds more before finally leaving. She was glad that they were gone now.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

Shireen's idle curiosity about her bloodline is not a onetime thing for this story. I plan on coming back to it throughout the story, amidst all the potential romancing, seducing, and competing in the tournament, once they get the grounds ready and once Rhaegar finally gets there. (He sure is taking his time, isn't he?)

I don't think Obara has been in any actual kind of combat so Osha does have a bit of an edge against her. In fact, she has a bit of edge against all of the elder Sand Snakes. Sure, they've been trained in weapons but they've never actually fought against anyone in a real-life situation. The spearwife, on the other hand, definitely has. So she would know what exactly she would be doing.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 14: Asha

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

Asha found her brother sitting waist deep in the water of the river. He only wore a pair of pants as he was continuously dunking his upper body into the water. It could've been possible to think that what he was doing was odd, if she hadn't seen him do it when he was a child. The first time he had done it, Pyke had nearly been torn apart trying to find him. It had been their grandfather who found him at the beach. Their father declared he was becoming a proper ironborn but all she remembered was how Theon stayed close to grandfather when Rodrik glared at him.

Despite what he might think, she did remember what Rodrik had threatened him with before he went off to reave during the rebellion. And she remembered why he had made that threat. Her elder brothers had been close before Maron had died out at sea. Rodrik blamed Theon for it. She blamed Maron. She at the least had been concerned about whether or not her little brother had been alive during those few days.

She strode out onto the bank, waited for him to lift his head out of the water, and said, "Still doing that, I see."

She watched as his back went stiff and still, like a cold wind had blown across it. "…I am," he finally said, not turning around to look at her.

She walked closer to him. "Still afraid to go anywhere near an actual bath?" she asked him. If he enjoyed bathing in moving water, bathing in still absolutely terrified him.

His back was still turned to her. "Is there something you need, Asha?"

She looked at his back, trying to find what it was her men had told her they saw that night. She saw no bandage at his side but there was a hint of something there, just peeking out from underneath his arm. "A few of my men saw you wearing a bandage at the green land prince's little court. Were you hiding something?"

If it was possible, his back became even stiffer. "If you don't have anything real to say to me, go away."

She wasn't going to leave him alone that easily. "I don't think so. What are you hiding, Theon?" She saw from how his body was tensing that he was about to leap into the current and swim away from her. Before he could do it though, she reached out and placed him in a hold around his neck.

He thrashed around in her hold, splashing water like a child, but her grip was strong. "Let me go!" he demanded. What she did instead was drag him out of the water back onto the shore.

There, she dropped him only to grab his head and force him to stand. She grabbed his arm and lifted it up, despite his protests. What was there she could see fully now. It was a scar, a thick angry pink of one that trailed down from his pit to where his stomach was. "What is that?" she demanded of him.

He tried to yank his arm out of her grip. "Let go."

"What is that?" she repeated, holding his arm still.

"What does it fucking look like? It's a scar." He yanked his arm free. In that same motion he reached down for a tunic and threw it on.

When he tried to move away, she blocked his path. "Where did you get it?"

"Why do you care? I got it in a fight."

He was lying. He didn't get that scar in a fight. She knew battle scars, she had a few herself, and that was no battle scar. If anything, it looked like a scar from torture. She looked him straight in the eye and he couldn't hold her gaze, staring down at the grass on the bank. That was all the confirmation she needed. "Who did this to you?" she demanded.

"What's it matter to you?" he asked. It could've been a challenge, if he wasn't still staring at the grass.

"That is not a wound from a fight. Who tortured you? Tell me, Theon, now!" she ordered him. He tried to duck under her arm to get away. All it got him was her forcing to him to his knees and holding him there. "Tell me!" He fought to get out of her grip and she found herself fighting hard just to keep him down. But she held on. "Tell me!"

"Why do you fucking care!?" he shouted at her.

"You're my brother!" That was reason enough for her to know what happened to him and who did it to him. Instead of getting a reply, he kicked out with his foot, getting her in the leg. It was enough to make her stumble and fall back. Her arse was telling her that she had had landed on a hard rock and it was enough to make her wince.

Theon almost scrambled away from her before stopping. He looked over at her and she saw the mixed look of shock and panic. His breathing was ragged and it took him more than a few seconds to calm it down. When it was, he looked at her like she was the one who did it to him. "I was almost flayed," he finally said in a voice so quiet, it could've been a whisper.

She got back up, fury flowing through her vines. "Who did it?"

She didn't know if it was her voice or he carried it for so long, but the words just fell out of his mouth as he explained. "Dom's bastard brother, Ramsey. He came to Winterfell wanting to be a part of the Pack, only he soon fled with his brother and two of the Starks. I and a few others went after him. I found him first. I thought I had him but he was able to survive."

"And you allowed yourself to be flayed?" If she wasn't so furious, she might've scoffed at his weakness. No true ironborn would've allowed himself to be flayed like that.

He looked at her with a scowl. He probably thought she was scorning him. "He knocked me unconscious and when I woke, he had me chained to a tree branch. I could've fought back, aye, but I saw the others getting into position to surprise him. So I distracted him by talking and he decided to take a pound of flesh off of me to shut me up." His voice trembled as he spoke, either from fear or anger. It wasn't the only trembling as his hands shook too. "It worked. The fucker died."

There was probably any number of things she could've asked her. But there was one she felt that stood above the others. "Why did you go after the Starks brats?" He didn't answer her and he couldn't even look her in the eyes. She figured it out and it made her sick. "Oh, Drowned God save me, you actually think of them as your family."

He didn't say anything to her, not right away. When he did finally drag his gaze away from the bank of the river towards her, there was a hesitance in his eyes. "What if I did?" he asked. Even though he probably meant that to be defiant there was also a measure of curiosity and hope to it too. He actually wanted to be a part of them.

It just made her even sicker. "How dare you forget about your actual family? The one that you bear the name of!" she shouted at him.

His eyes lost their hesitance and instead became filled with rage. "The Starks were more a family to me than the Greyjoys ever were. Eddard Stark was a more of a father then Balon Greyjoy!"

"And what of Quellon Greyjoy?" she asked. The anger left him and he looked at her in surprised shock. She was expecting it, so she continued. "What say you? Have you forgotten your grandfather? The one who cared for you? The one who took you to sea to teach you how to fish? The one who taught you how to hold an oar in your hand? The one who taught how to furl a sail properly?"

"No, I've not forgotten him. I will never forget him."

"But you decide to abandon the rest of your actual family from the ones who took you, is that it?" She had learned of what happened to Theon the day after he had been taken aboard the Stark ship and sailed away from Pyke. She had been angry then about what Stark had done and now she was angry about what he did to her brother.

His anger came back and he took a couple of steps towards her. "I wasn't taken, I was given away." He came even closer to her, thrusting his face towards hers. "Balon Greyjoy gave me away, his only remaining son, like a mangy mutt he didn't want to look at anymore!"

Both of them heard the sounds of more people walking on the bank. When they turned to the sound, they saw the Tyrell with the cane, along with the Dornish slut and three of her children, all crowding around her skirts. The Summer Island bastard stood close, looking like she didn't want to be there. "I beg your pardon," the Tyrell said politely. "Is this a bad time?"

She looked at him with a glare that warned him to shut up. A quick look at her brother told her that he had the same look on his face too. "What do you want, green lander?" she asked him.

"I do not want anything, Captain," he said, still polite. "Rather, it is she who wants something." He gestured at the slut.

She stepped forward to them, her hands in front of her. Her daughters stayed where they were, watching with curious eyes. "My lord," she said to Theon, bowing in a curtsy. It was a short one that she came out of quickly. "I would ask a favor of you."

He stepped away from Asha, his look of fury slipping into one of uncertainty. "What is it?" he asked her.

"I would ask that you teach my daughters to swim properly."

It was a question that neither she nor him were expecting. A green lander was asking an ironborn to teach their children to swim? Asha thought that it was something she wouldn't hear of, much less see. But now it was happening before her eyes. Theon looked even more surprised than she was. He was never one to hide away his emotions. "Me?" he asked. "Why?"

"That is indeed the question," the bastard muttered.

Oddly enough, it was the Tyrell who spoke rather the Dornish. "Sarella," he told her in a gently stern voice, "it was her choice. Stop before you start."

It was an odd thing to say, but it made her comply. "As you say, Willas," she said. From what Asha had seen of green landers, the boy should've chastised her and demand that she call him Lord Tryell. But he did nothing of the sort. All he did was smile gently and nod at her.

The slut looked at her brother and said, "You said it yourself, Lord Theon, when you saved my daughters. They should not go near the river unless they learned how to swim proper. In light of that, I don't know of anyone more fit to teach them how to do just that."

Theon looked at her and then at the daughters, all still standing there. "You want me to teach them?" he repeated.

Asha rolled her eyes at her fool of a brother. "She said that already, you fool. Why are you acting so surprised? This is a chance to prove the name given to you, even if it's just pathetic to do so." He looked at her with a glare, like he wanted to hit her. She would've welcomed it. It could've given her a chance to knock him down on his ass, something that she felt he really needed.

"Name?" one of the girls asked, peeking out from behind her mother's skirt. She didn't look like the one Theon pulled out of the river. She looked younger. "Don't you already have a name?"

The Tyrell smiled at her, his eyes shining knowingly somehow. "Lorenza, it is like how your father is called the Red Viper. I believe that Lord Greyjoy has been given a name." He looked up at Theon with curious eyes. "Can you perchance tell us that name, my lord?"

Theon looked back at Asha but she didn't say anything. She might've given him the name but that was all she had given him. She was not going to be his fucking herald. So she avoided his look. "It's Theon Tidebreaker," he finally said, not as proud as he should be.

The bastard scoffed. "A stupid name if I ever heard one."

"Sarella," said both the slut and the Tryell boy at the same time in the same tone of voice. Apparently, they were used to chastising her. If they had done it so much, it was obvious that it hadn't worked. What that girl needed was a good clout on the head and Asha was more than willing to provide it.

But then Theon did a strange thing: he looked at the little girls standing close to their mother for a long moment. Then he dragged his eyes up to the bastard and opened his mouth. "You'll have to forgive me," he said with a voice that dripped with mockery, "the name of Ignorantly Arrogant was already taken, so I was forced to make do." He smiled, adding to his jest and mockery.

The bastard's eyes flashed bright in rage. "Says the hostage of a beaten fool and the son of one too," she spat at him.

Asha would have thought that he would kill there if he could just by looking at the rage on his face. But he closed his eyes tightly and when they opened, he lost his mockery and anger. Instead, his eyes were serious and determined. "Says the man who dove into the river to save your sisters while you stood on the bank like soft-headed fool," he spat out between clenched teeth. "And unlike you, I have earned the name given to me."

She laughed mockingly at him. "How?" she challenged him. "Did you play on the beach and the waves couldn't knock you down?"

The anger came back greater than before. Asha thought her brother would truly be an ironborn then and there and strike her down. But his blow didn't come. His fists stayed by his side. Instead of striking her, he just regarded her with a look that said she belonged with barnacles to be scrapped off a ship's hull. Then he ignored her in favor of the children's mother. "Do you want their lessons to start now?"

A hopeful look appeared on her face. "Will you teach them?" she asked.

He looked down at the children. They were still staring up at him from behind their mother, all wearing green land dresses. "Not in those clothes," he said, looking down at the children. "Strip to your smallclothes."

"I will take my leave, Ellaria," the Tyrell told the woman with an incline of his head while the children started taking off their clothes. He started to walk away before looking at Asha. "Captain, if I could have a word?"

She eyed him. The last time he had asked her that question, it had been the day after he insulted her before her entire crew. She had thought that he came to her to continue where he had left off the night before. Instead, he actually wished to talk about dogs at sea. He was a breeder of animals and wished to know. It had turned out to be one of the more interesting talks she had since coming to Riverrun.

She didn't say anything in reply, choosing instead to walk in his direction and then past him. It didn't take him long to hobble after and catch up. "Would it be presumptuous of me to say that means yes?" he asked with a small smile on his lips.

If this was some game of his, she wasn't having it. "What do you want?" she demanded.

He lost the smile but kept pace with her. "Only to extend my thanks to you again regarding our talk about dogs at sea." He looked back at where they were walking but she didn't. "But I was also curious about your brother's name. It must've been fairly recent."

"And why should a green lander care about such things?"

"I am simply curious. If you do not wish to tell, then I shall not trouble you for it."

She looked at him again. This was not an ironborn man. An ironborn would've cursed her and told her to tell what he wanted to hear. But this man did not do that. He simply asked and waited, even gladly take the no if she gave it. He was dressed like a green lander too, all in silks and velvets of green. Even the stick he leaned on was rich in design and craft. She shouldn't be surprised at this. He was from the Reach, the very essence of what the Iron Islands thought of when they spoke of the rest of Westeros. The way he leaned on his stick screamed invitation to her to take what she wanted from him.

But she didn't. He watched her calmly and carefully and she did nothing to take what she wanted from him. Instead, she found herself saying "The name was given here but the reason for it happened before he was sent away. Our family was sailing back from Old Wyk. We were just outside of Pyke when a storm struck. Theon fell overboard and we all thought that he had been taken to the Drowned God's hall. Four days later a longship came to Pyke, carrying him. They had found him two days past, clinging to a piece of driftwood."

"He survived the sea for two days? How old was he?"

"Nine."

"By the gods," he said in a voice that showed he was impressed.

She didn't wish to dwell on that event. It was in the past, where it should stay. "What are you doing with that woman?" she asked him. "She's Dornish."

"Yes, and?"

"I thought the Reach and Dorne despised each other." That was known even to the ironborn.

"They do," he acknowledged with a nod of his head. "It's gotten more intense recently because Prince Oberyn gave me this," he shook his stick slightly, "during a tourney."

"And you are friendly with his woman?"

"And I get along with the man himself quite well, much to the annoyance of my family. I don't blame him for what happened. If anything, I'd blame the horse I had been riding and I'd blame my father for putting me in the joust."

It was an odd thing for any green lander to say, she was sure of it. "You should have just refused him."

He gave her a look that seemed to be part amused and exasperated, like she was supposed to know what happened to him but he found it funny that she didn't. "What makes you think I didn't?"

"Willas!" shouted a man's voice from ahead. Asha looked ahead and saw a tall, black haired and blue eyed man striding towards them. At his side wan another man and a woman, both of which shared enough Tyrell features that she knew they were the green lander's brother and sister.

"Lord Renly, it's good to see you this day," he said to the tall man, bowing his head ever so slightly.

"As it is to see you," he replied with a generous smile. His eyes found her and the smile widened slightly. "And who is this fair maid?"

She started to reach for her axe, wanting to trim the man's nose off a little, when the green lander spoke, "This is Captain Asha Greyjoy. Please refer to her as such, my lord." She looked at him with a small hint of surprise in her eyes. She never thought she would see the day a green lander would defend her.

But the other green lander just laughed. "A woman as a captain?" he said in clear disbelief. "You jest, Willas." The other man and woman showed that they believed the same with their expression, even if they didn't say anything.

This time, she did pull out her axe and held it out to his neck, pressing down enough he could feel it. The humor left his face as he stared down at the blade. "He might jest, but I do not," she said to him. "It's Captain, green lander. If you have a hard time believing that, talk to my crew. I am sure they would be willing to correct you."

She heard the sound of steel being drawn and saw the younger green lander holding his sword out at her. "Remove your axe from his neck or I will remove your head from your shoulders," he told her, a furious look on his face.

She would've welcomed the challenge. But then Willas Tyrell did something she considered odd: he stepped between them and placed his free hand on his brother's arm. "Loras, put it down," he ordered in a firm voice. When his brother looked to argue, he continued, "Renly put himself in this situation. Put down your sword."

"Brother," the boy Tyrell tried to protest. Asha didn't know what the elder did but whatever it was, it was enough to make him put the sword down. He was still angry and it showed in how he rammed the sword back into his sheath.

She turned her attention back to the green land idiot. She was considering pressing her axe deeper into his skin, making him bleed. Her eyes also found the chain he wore around his neck. It was a pretty thing, made of gold and emeralds. It almost seemed a dilemma to her, to make him pay for his insult in blood or take the iron price for it. _"Decisions, decisions,"_ she thought to herself. She could also admit that she was enjoying the look of fear on his face. She despised green landers and how they thought themselves superior to ironborn. What stood in front of her was a prime example of it.

"My lord Renly, there you are," a fourth man's voice said, speaking from behind her. She wasn't the only one who turned her head to look at who it was but she knew right away that she was looking at a fellow seaman. It showed in his clothes, plain compared to what the green landers wore and well suited for traveling aboard a ship. It also showed in his voice, lacking the polish quality she heard so many times since coming to Riverrun. Most of all, it showed in his posture. He was not high-headed or arrogant.

It seemed like the idiot knew him too, for he said behind gritted teeth, "Ser Davos. Is something the matter?"

"Your brother has commanded me to come find you, my lord. You were supposed to meet him for lunch but you had not shown," the now-named Ser Davos said.

"Ah, I see. As it happens, I was just on my way to see Stannis. I pray he doesn't mind some company? I was intending to bring along Ser Loras and the lady Margaery." He gestured with a hand to the younger Tyrells standing behind him. "They are my foster family, after all."

The seaman looked at them for a long moment before turning his attention back to him. "Begging your pardon, my lord, but Lord Stannis had requested you and you alone. Bringing Ser Loras and Lady Margaery might cause problems." He looked at Asha. "Would you let him go, captain?"

" _At least this green lander knows what I am,"_ she thought to herself. "Aye, I'll let him go," she said aloud, taking her axe away from his neck. And as an afterthought, she cut the chain from his neck. "But I'll keep this as my price." She pushed past all the green landers, ignoring the looks of outrage she saw on their faces.

Her strolling led her to the tourney grounds. It was already built but the tournament hadn't begun yet. They were still waiting for the green land king to arrive. It was stupid. If the grounds were ready, then the tournament should start. That would've been the way she would have done it. She took notice of a pair green landers looking at the grounds too. At first, she thought it was just another knight and his squire. She almost left them out of thought, until she looked again and saw that it was the woman knight and her girl square, one of the Stark brats.

She looked at them more closely now. It appeared that once done with looking at the grounds, they were having a lesson in swordplay, with the woman teaching the brat patiently. They were an oddity, the two of them. In that sense, they were like her. If they weren't green landers, she might've been interested in talking to them. But since they were green landers, with weak and pitiful green land ways, it would all be rather pointless.

She heard a laugh behind her, not a proper laugh but the kind of titter green land ladies uttered that set her teeth on edge. When she turned around and saw who it was, her teeth were forgotten and instead, her anger brewed. Coming towards her was the dragon who killed her brother with some redheaded twit on his arm. The twit saw her first. "Oh!" she said in realization. "Good day, my lady." She dipped into a curtsy whilst still holding that arm.

Prince Viserys Targaryen didn't extend her any courtesy. He only said, "Captain Greyjoy."

The twit looked at him and then her. Realization dawned on her face (it took her long enough) and she smiled too widely. "You must be Asha! Theon has told us about you."

That was enough for Asha to know who she was. "You're the other Stark girl, aren't you? San something," she said carelessly.

While the girl reddened with shame, the green land prince was angry. "Her name is Sansa, you fucking squid. I'm sure you have enough brains in your head to remember that."

She brushed the insult with a course laugh. "Aye, I've got a brain in my head. I just choose not to care about green lander names," The laugh died away and she glared at him full in the face, "except for those who murdered my family."

He didn't look surprise at her words or that he even cared. "If I hadn't killed him, he would have killed me. There is nothing else to it," he told her bluntly.

It didn't cool her anger, only stroke it. "Yes, you were quite the killer, slaying my brother when he was overrun and not having the decency to treat his dead body with respect." She remembered seeing her brother's corpse afterwards. It had been beaten into the state she had seen by many feet.

"Decency to the dead should only matter when they are decent people," he replied, anger leaking out through his voice and lighting up his eyes. "It does not belong to a man who feels that it is his right to rape and pillage."

She was insulted by his accusation and responded in reply, "What do you know about the way of the ironborn, green lander?"

He took a challengingly step towards her, his hand closing into a fist. "I know enough that it would be wrong to call your lot people." With each step he took, he brought himself closer to her. "To say that you're scum would be a complement to scum all around the world! You are worse than scum! You all deserve to burn away into nothingness! You—!" He stopped suddenly and closed his eyes. When he opened them, they found the twit on his arm. She was looking at him in concern. He breathed out a long breath and looked back at Asha. "I know enough. Good day to you, my lady."

She knew that he said those last words to enrage her. But her anger didn't matter once she remembered what her brother had said. "You," she said to the twit. "What do you know about Theon's scar?" The twit didn't answer with her words, but her eyes widened in surprise and a hint of fear. To Asha, that practically screamed she had been there when he got it.

Viserys took a step towards her, placing the twit behind him like he was a shield. "I said good day, my lady," he said shortly. The two of them left together. She watched them go. They were talking with their heads leaning towards one another. Someone else might've thought them to be lovers but she knew that the dragon thought himself to be a wolf, just like her idiot of a brother.

" _Your only brother,"_ a voice whispered. She knew that. Theon was different from when he was a child. When she first saw him, she thought that he had just been turned into another weak green lander. But the more she talked to him, the more was revealed about what happened to him. He seemed less like a green lander but not enough to be an ironborn. It was like he stood in the middle between the two.

For a moment, she considered the idea. Then she dismissed it. If he wasn't ironborn, he wasn't ironborn. It was a simple as that. No one could stand between being ironborn and green lander, they had to choose. But then she thought if such a thing had to work, it would need an ironborn and a green lander to work together. Her thoughts found themselves thinking on the eldest Tyrell boy, smiling gently whilst leaning on his cane.

She decided he had a nice smile and left it at that. She turned her attention back to where she had seen the knight and the Stark brat. They weren't there anymore. She decided to go look for them, walking down the length of the tourney grounds. She wanted to see if they would be interesting. Perhaps she could goad the knight into a fight and see just how good she was.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

Believe it or not, that was Asha's way of showing Theon that she still cared for him. She's not a woman in the normal sense of things for Westeros. She's not going to be kind or gentle about it. She's going to be demanding, she's going to yell.

Since he technically was part of the rebellion, Stannis had been punished for holding Storm's End. But since he didn't actively fight in the rebellion, Rhaegar decided to go with a less harsh punishment. He commanded that Renly be fostered with a house that had been loyal to the Iron Throne. In the end, Renly went to Highgarden, the seat of the very same house that had tried to starve him out. Needless to say when he grew up and met Stannis again, they had different views on the Tyrells. So things between them are pretty much the same as they were in canon, just for different reasons.

I think that when an ironborn calls the rest of Westeros the green lands, they are instinctively about the Reach. The way I've looked at the map of Westeros, the Vale and the Crownlands are too far away via sail to actually be worth reaving over, Dorne is too hot and sneaky to do so, and they don't have the most stellar of success rates with the North. That of course leaves the Westerlands and the Reach. Now I say they think of the Reach because of what is there. The Reach is one of, if not the most, fertile places in Westeros. They've got food, gold, jewels, and women to boot. If I was an ironborn, that would scream jackpot to me.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 15: Aegon

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

Every time he saw his sister, his eyes would go to Mya. And every time they did, she would ignore him. This was the case even now, as he ran across her, Rhaenys, and Jocelyn walking alongside their cousins, both bastard and trueborn. It was Arianne who saw him first and that he was walking alongside Arya Stark. _"Oh no,"_ he thought to himself as she smiled. He knew that smile. It usually brought along mischief.

"My, my, what do we have here?" his cousin remarked, getting the attention of everyone.

But before she could say anything more, he stopped her. "Don't say it, Arianne. No one needs to hear it, not even as a jape. Whatever it is you're thinking in that head of yours, keep it there."

She frowned at him. "You do not know what I was going to say, coz. Don't assume my words."

He just gave her a long look. "You were going to comment on how we look like my father and Lyanna Stark come again while possibly putting yourself in my mother's position." She didn't say anything in respond which meant that he was right.

Arya Stark looked at both of them with a curious look. "Why would she say that?" she asked. All eyes fell on her when she said that.

Nym scoffed. "You can't be that blind," she told the girl.

"There's no need to be rude, Nym," Rhaenys told their cousin before turning her attention to the young girl. "My lady—"

"I'm not a lady, that's Sansa," she said quickly with a frown on her face that almost felt endearing to the prince. Mya kept her face expressionless and Jocelyn rolled her eyes in exasperation. But it was his cousins and sister who were most surprised by her outburst.

As always, Rhaenys was the first to recover. "In that case, I shall call you Arya."

"That's fine. But why would she say something like that?" She looked over at Arianne with a look that seemed to be equal part confusion, curiosity, and accusing.

His cousin was the first to answer her. "You have a resemblance to Lyanna Stark and you walk alongside Prince Rhaegar's heir. If there was someone else who saw this, tongues would wag."

The Stark looked at the Martell and said, "I look nothing like my aunt Lyanna. She was beautiful."

She stared at the Stark in the hall and so did everyone else. Jocelyn had a frown on her face, Mya looked neutral, and the Sand Snakes didn't care. "You bare her resemblance quite well," Aegon's sister told her.

"She was beautiful, just like Sansa's beautiful. I'm just Arya Horseface." There was a dejected tone in her voice, like she was used to knowing that and had accepted it. It was a little unsettling for Aegon to hear in such a young girl.

He looked at his cousins, already getting a bad feeling. And he was right. Nym and Tyene were already looking at her like she was a doll waiting to be dressed up. The last person they had gotten their hands on didn't even last a week and reportedly ran screaming from their rooms and joined the Silent Sisters (or so he had been told). "Perhaps we can help you fix that," Tyene said.

"Why?" the little she-wolf asked like it was something confusing. "I don't want to be stupid like Sansa or you."

The interested looks on their faces turned into angry ones. "I beg your pardon?"

"Everyone calls you Lady Nym or Lady Tyene. If they call you ladies, it means you act like ladies, which means you act stupid. I'm not going to be a lady, not now, not ever."

"Oh, and what are you going to be?" Jocelyn asked her in a long suffering voice. Clearly, she had been through this before.

"A knight of the Kingsguard," her half-sister declared proudly. It just made Aegon's sister and cousins start to giggle wildly and Aegon stare at her. He couldn't believe that she had said that out loud.

Jocelyn just rolled her eyes. "That's a new one," she declared. "I thought Bran was the one who wanted to be a Kingsguard."

"I don't want to be one. I'm going to be one."

"Arya, a girl can't be a Kingsguard. A girl can't even be a knight."

She frowned at her older sister. "I'm learning from a knight, Brienne of Tarth. She is teaching me a lot of things."

He didn't know why he decided that was the moment to open his mouth and speak out, but his lips were already moving. "And she's not wrong about her becoming a Kingsguard," he told his family.

"Why?" asked Rhaenys.

"I made a promise with her and one of the Kingsguard witnessed it." As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew that he had the attention of his cousins. Sometimes, that wasn't a good thing.

"Has she now?" Arianne said, looking down at Arya whilst fiddling with the jeweled necklace she wore. She often did that to people, making it look like she was paying attention to what they were doing but was paying more attention to what she was wearing at the moment. He didn't know if she did that on purpose to irritate people or not. He found it was best not to ask.

But Arya seemed to not care about what the princess thought. She was too focused on the necklace. "That's a wolf's eye," she suddenly declared, pointing at the main jewel on the necklace.

She stopped with her fiddling and looked at the girl. "I beg your pardon?"

"That gem you're wearing, it's a wolf's eye gem. See?" She leaned her finger in closer to the yellow gem. "There's a little bit of black in the middle, the jewelers made it like that. That's why it's called a wolf's eye."

Aegon knew he was looking at her with sense of surprise. This little wolf was surprising him again and again. One quick look told him that he wasn't the only one who felt like that. "How do you know that?" Tyene asked her.

"The jeweler set up shop in the winter town. He takes the gems brought in from the mine, cuts them the right way, and sends them to White Harbor to be made into jewels," she explained to them all.

Arianne took her hand away from the necklace, a mixture of confusion and uncertainty painting her face. Aegon knew why she had that face on. That necklace was one of, if not the most, her favorites to wear. However, she also claimed to dislike anything and everything that came out of the North. (Although given how the past few days have gone, that could be disbelieved). Obara looked disinterested in what the little wolf was saying, choosing to just scowl at her like she had done something wrong. Nym, however, was intrigued. "What mine?" she asked. "I wasn't aware that the North had a gem mine."

"There are," Arya said, excitement bubbling up in her voice. "It's called Wolf's Pond and that's because there's this big pond in the center of the mine that shines or glows when light hits just right. When it does, it reflects off the veins nearby."

"How would you know this?" Rhaenys asked her.

She turned to look at Aegon's sister, her eyes bright. "I was taken there once. It was a beautiful place that I've never seen before."

Aegon shook his head ruefully at that proclamation. Clearly, Arya Stark had never been outside of the North. She had never seen Highgarden or Storm's End or even the Water Gardens. He saw Rhaenys have the same look on her face. But then she looked at him and the look disappeared. Instead, there was a look in her eyes that said they had to talk. It was a look that she had used often. But he couldn't just tell Arya to go away. He might be the Crown Prince but that was still rude.

"Lady Stark," Mya said suddenly, breaking her silence.

"I'm not a lady," the Stark replied, frowning.

She didn't even blink at the response. "Arya, might I be permitted to meet your direwolf? I believe that is the only one I have yet to see."

"Sure," she declared, losing the frown. Without preamble she grabbed her hand and started leading her away from everyone else, pausing only to give a brief "Bye, Aegon!"

"If any of you were wondering, yes she is always like that," Jocelyn said once the two had vanished from sight.

"We weren't," Obara told her curtly. She winced a little at those words like they stung her personally.

"I was, Obara," Arianne said, that amused smile back on her lips. "She reminds me of myself when I was younger."

Jocelyn Sand snorted at that. "I remember you when you were that age, your Highness. You might've been running around but you were more like Sansa then Arya." This time when both the Princess of Dorne and her bastard cousins turned their foul looks on her, she met them easily.

" _This might become ugly,"_ Aegon thought as he watched this happen. Even though she was from Dorne and Lady Ashara's daughter no less, he saw that Jocelyn was treated awkwardly by the Dornish here at Riverrun, most by Arianne and the Sand Snakes. On the one hand, she was a bastard of Dorne but on the other, she was the daughter of Ned Stark, the failed rebel.

Fortunately, as always it seemed, his elder sister came to the rescue. "Jocelyn, could you see that I'm prepared for tonight?" she asked her friend. Jocelyn didn't say anything in return, only nodding and walking off. Arianne and the Sand Snakes also took their leave, off to do something.

"What is happening tonight?" Aegon asked his sister once they were alone.

"We're coming to your court."

It was only when she said that he remembered. But he chose not to focus on it. "What did you want?"

"You know you can't have Arya Stark as your Kingsguard," she said without preamble. "It will set the entire court to wagging their tongues, not to mention the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms."

"But I don't even consider her in that way! For the love of the Seven, she's only a child." That was a horrifying image to even consider!

But his sister wasn't having any of it. "That child will become a woman soon enough, one who will look like her dead aunt most likely. Our house has already gone through something like that and we lost our uncle because of it. Do you really want to be the cause of the next one, Aegon?"

What she said did make sense. He knew that much. But he wouldn't let that happen. "She's going to be a part of my Kingsguard. I've made the promise and it was witnessed. If I have to make her work for it, I'll give her a task. Bringing back Blackfyre should be enough." No one knew where the legendary sword of House Targaryen was now, although he had heard a theory that the Golden Company had it.

But Rhaenys still didn't look convinced. "And when she's comes back with Blackfyre in hand, most likely looking like Lyanna Stark?"

"I'm not going to fall in love with Arya, Rhaenys. You know that my heart belongs to another."

"Yes, the lady Margaery."

Rage flashed through him at her name. "That's not who I meant and you fucking well know it." He hated how she danced around the issue, just like their parents did. No one ever confronted him about who he loved, even though they could all see how blatant it was. Even he knew it that was how blatant it was.

But she ignored him like she always did. "Will our man be attending your court tonight?" she asked, making it sound like their previous topic didn't matter.

He restrained the urge to tear at his hair because he refused to give her that satisfaction. They could both play at that game. "I sent a servant with an invitation to him. If he doesn't accept, I'll just hold the court in the godswood since that's where he'll be."

She smiled at him. "Thank you, Aegon. Tell me, what do you think of Jon Dualfang?"

"He's nice enough of a fellow but quite quiet and solemn," he said without thinking about it. "If I'm honest, I don't know what you and the ladies see in him."

"Do you remember what Father and Mother always said about meeting Starks?"

"Yes." It had been an odd thing to hear and he had hardly thought of it since. Then again, he had always made sure to meet Arya while it was still light outside.

"It happened to me with him, twice. What they say is true."

He heard those words and suddenly understood. She had played the game before, he knew that. But the way she played now, it was different. She was focused and determined, actually determined to win the bastard's favor and love. It was actually a little frightening to look at. "Perhaps I should cancel tonight?"

Her hand reached and grabbed his arm tight enough for him to yelp in pain. "You will do no such thing," she hissed into his ear, getting so close to him that it would've looked like they were hugging from a stranger's eye.

Her hand started to squeeze tighter. He could feel the loss of feeling in his arm. "I was trying to be considerate!" he told her through the pain. "You were the one who just told me to be careful with a trueborn Stark!"

"And?" she asked. She didn't squeeze any tighter but her grip did not lighten.

"Well, I had thought that you would take your own advice."

"I would, little brother, if I was worrying about a trueborn Stark. But I'm not." The intensity in her eyes never wavered. It was a little terrifying to behold. "I've seen how the other ladies look upon him. They want to devour and leave him to be an empty husk."

"And you don't? You're playing the same game they are, Rhaenys." He tried to get feeling back into the arm without any success. "Could you let go of my arm now, please? I need it." She didn't answer him but she did let go of his arm and walked away.

He stood in the corridor, working to make sure that he still had the ability of movement in his arm. He watched his sister leave him there and sighed once she was out of sight. He loved his sister dearly but there were times that her tenacity frightened him. And this had to be the most tenacious he had seen her yet. _"All of this over a bastard?"_ he couldn't help but ask himself as he walked away too. But he couldn't point fingers, not with who he loved.

* * *

That night, in the godswood, he sat on his personal throne and watched his court. There wasn't much to those words, since his "throne" was a stool that had been taken from the kitchens and his court hardly needed him watching them. But he was to be king and the people there in the woods with him would be lords and ladies of the land one day. So he would have to watch them all.

But even as he observed all, his eyes kept falling back to Jon Snow. The bastard was not an actual part of the revelry, unlike the rest of the Northmen there. He sat off to the side in silence, watching it all silently. _"Does he see the ladies all looking at him?"_ Aegon wondered, looking at the women there. Even though they jest, japed, and laughed with other men, their eyes kept falling to the bastard. But he never met anyone of them in the eye, keeping his own pointed to the ground, to the wolves nearby, or to his small group of friends.

Aegon eyed the wolves. Despite that only Robb Stark and Jon Snow were there in the godswood, all six of the direwolves were all in attendance, watching what was going on with eyes that spoke of disinterest. Only the wolves named Grey Wind and Ghost were near their respective masters, the others sat at a distance. But he took note that even though that they sat apart, they were close enough to reach Jon Snow.

He walked over to the bastard, ignoring the look he knew that he would be getting because of it. "You seem to have guardians, Jon Snow," he remarked, looking at the wolves nearby.

Jon Snow was a bit surprised when he had come over to talk to him but he quirked his mouth into a small smile when he looked at the wolves. "Aye, they've been like that recently, ever since…" He looked over at where Tya Lannister sat and fell silent.

But Aegon was curious. "Since what?" he asked.

"I would not speak about it, your Highness."

"And now you have me curious." What happened between him and the Lady Tya? He wanted to know.

"I do not think it would be wise to talk about it, your Highness," the bastard said with a hint of stubbornness. "To do so would most likely bring down embarrassment and humiliation. I do not wish to inflict that."

If it had been anyone else Aegon knew he would've mentally called them a liar. But in the few instances that he knew Jon Dualfang, he knew that the bastard was no liar. He was moody, somber, and more inclined to hide away, but he was not a liar. But still, what he wasn't trying to say was very intriguing to the prince. _"Did one of the ladies take the first victory of his chaste lips?"_ he asked himself. Almost as soon he did, he had to fight down a snigger. The thought of chaste lips amused him. While Jon Snow was a confessed maiden, he was certain that the lips had kissed someone, perhaps even Tya Lannister. _"Oh, that would drive Rhaenys to anger."_

"You're doing this small court of mine a disservice, Jon," he said without preamble.

The bastard looked at him, surprise and worry lighting up in his eyes. "I have?" he asked, trying his best to hide the nervousness in his words.

"Aye," Aegon replied, gesturing to the ladies at his court. "You have all these lovely ladies to talk to and yet, you do not."

Jon Snow was surprised and looked at the women there. It was a quick look to confirm that they were there, not long enough to get their attention. "There are men of noble birth here, even my friends here can claim that," he replied, look over at Samwell Tarly and Aegon's own cousin.

"Yes, and they sit here with you instead of talking to the ladies." None of them could look at him in the eye, which amused him. "Come on, coz," he said to Quentyn, "I know that you've got some eyes for some of the ladies here. I'm certain that you've been eyeing the lady Margaery."

Quentyn went beet red. "I-I wouldn't…Aegon, she's your betrothed," he spluttered.

He couldn't help but laugh at his cousin's reaction. But even as he laughed, the laughter died away in his throat as he saw Jon Dualfang. There was anger in his eyes but it smoldered, for now. The man was becoming angry that his friend was being made fun of. Given how easily he was bested at the sword against him, Aegon decided to stop where he was. "A jest, Quentyn, I only meant it in jest," he told his cousin, walking over to him and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Move over so I can sit?"

His cousin looked a bit surprised that he was asked such a question but started to move anyway. "Of course," he said, leaving him enough room to sit down comfortable.

He did so. The albino direwolf watched him intently as he sat but did nothing else. "I'll tell you a truth, Quent: you're welcome to her." Everyone there looked at him like he had lost his mind, but he didn't care about what they thought. It was the truth.

"Y-Your Highness, wh-why would you say something like that?" the Tarly boy asked him. "She's…she's very pretty."

He looked at Randyll Tarly's eldest son. He looked nothing like the warrior his father was, more fat than muscle. "She is that, but I don't want her," he acknowledged.

"But why?" the boy asked.

He could've listed the reasons why, about how every time they were together it felt like he was on the verge of being drowned in roses and there was nothing he could to stop it, how she seemed smug every time they were together in public but always managed seemed to hide it beneath a mask of gentle kindness, but it would be damaging to do that. It would be damaging to the royal family and to House Tyrell. He might get that suffocating feeling from Margaery, but he respected her eldest brother. He chose to go with a simple but different answer. "I love another, someone I want but everyone is determined to stop us from coming together."

"Who is it?" the square from the Vale, who's been called Edd, asked.

He looked over at where his sister was sitting close to Robb, Mya nearby as always. If he had to guess his sister's plan, she would try to make Jon Snow by being with his trueborn brother. Not that he cared about it. He only had eyes for Mya. She noticed him and he felt his heart grow light, his lips turning back into a small smile. Bu then she looked away and his heart grew heavy again. "It doesn't matter," he finally said. Wanting to change the subject, he looked over at Jon Dualfang. "Would you tell me of the North, Jon?"

The bastard turned his attention to him again. The anger was gone from his eyes and it was replaced by surprise and curiosity. "What would you like to know, your Highness?"

"Your sister said something about a mine of gems in passing. The Wolf's Lake, I believe she called."

"The Wolf's Pond, actually," he corrected instantly.

" _So it does exist,"_ the prince thought to himself. He wondered if he had missed the Small Council meeting pertaining to that little piece of news or if it had occurred before his father had started bringing him to the meetings. "Have you been there yourself?"

He nodded and said, "Aye, I have. It's easily one of the most beautiful places that I've seen in my life."

"You've never been outside of the North before now. How could it be such a thing when you've never seen Highgarden, Storm's End, or the Water Gardens?" The prince there wasn't much up in the North, except for snow, trees, and more snow.

Jon Snow grew somber again. "I had given some thought to coming to Dorne before. But now, I do not think I would go if given the chance." He didn't say anything incriminating but he did look at where the Sand Snakes lounged near Arianne. Quentyn did the same and he frowned more severely.

Aegon saw both their looks and followed them. He saw Tyene whispering to Arianne, saying something that made her giggle and coyly gaze at a nearby knight, he didn't know who. But he also saw how Obara scowl at everything that wasn't her family, how Nymeria watched Mya while idly stroking her whip (his blood burned at the sight), and how Sarella seemed to content to insult and harass Theon Greyjoy. "Not all bastards are like that in Dorne," he found himself saying.

"What do you say to that, Quentyn?"

Quentyn turned his head from his family back to his group. He said quietly, "He is right but the Sand Snakes would not leave you alone if you were to travel through Dorne."

They all took in his words, eyeing the Sand Snakes with suspicion. Arianne noticed the looks and when she saw Jon Dualfang look at her, she smiled as well as look away coyly. While there was red in his cheeks, there was also a confused look on his face. It was like the bastard was trying to understand why she had just done that. Aegon saw it and chose to take measures. "Why don't you go over to talk to her?" he suggested.

The bastard shook his head in reply. "No, she has better things to do then waste time speaking to a person that hails from a land she dislikes."

Aegon knew that to be true. He also knew that it stemmed from their Uncle Oberyn. His mother, surprisingly, had no trouble regarding the rebels. Neither did his father but he wasn't a Martell. But he also knew that Jon Dualfang was the intended man for this tournament's game. "I think that she'll make an exception for tonight." But the bastard shook his head again. _"Stubborn,"_ the prince thought. He decided to change the talk to more pleasant. "So, what part of the tournament do you plan to join, Jon Dualfang? The joust, perhaps?" he suggested.

Jon Snow shook his head a third time but chuckled this time around. "No, Robb is better at the lance then I am. He will take to the lists just as likely Greyjoy will take to the archery range."

"Interesting, but I asked about you."

He fell silent for a moment. "What do you plan to join, Jon?" Edd asked him. "Please tell us so I know which to avoid. That way, I can make sure I keep on living for a little while longer."

The small group of friends chuckled at that, except for him. "If you truly wish to know, I would like to join the melee."

It would be a good choice for him. Aegon knew that personally. "You'll be sure to win," he said with a certainty.

"I might, if I were to join."

He blinked his eyes, confused about what he had just heard. "Why wouldn't you?" No one would look down on him much if he joined the melee to prove himself. This looked to be a tournament that rivaled Harrenhal in grandeur. He could not fathom why someone would hold themselves back from joining except out of cowardliness.

The bastard looked him in the eye and said, "This is Lady Catelyn's birthplace."

"And?" he asked, looking at him like he was a fool. Strangely enough, he got the same look back.

"Jon Snow!" roared a voice from where the Northmen generally gathered. All eyes turned to see who it was, a literal bear of a man with hair and a beard of dark brown. He looked to be the kind of man who would be an absolute terror on the battlefield, much like the animal that was his sigil. "This night seems rather appropriate for that song, would you not agree?"

Jon Snow became hesitant, his eyes looking at all the women there before looking at him. "Jack," he started to say.

"There will be no excuses," the man said, stopping him before he could begin. Other Northmen were beginning to stand, picking up instruments that they had brought to the godswood. "These ladies all seem quite keen on you, even if they don't try to show it openly. Come and give them something to remember."

The other Northmen seemed to agree with the sentiment, since they were already holding what they would be playing. Jon Snow looked at them all and then, not surprisingly to Aegon, to his trueborn. "Robb, please stop them," he all but begged.

"Sorry, Jon," Robb Stark said with a grin. "I happen to agree with them. You'd better start the song." The rest of the Northmen had already grouped together, ready to start playing. The ladies were all gathered together close by and watching him with expecting eyes.

" _I thought he couldn't play an instrument,"_ Aegon thought to himself as he watched the bastard seemingly sigh in resignation and stand up. He walked towards them and they started to play. This song was different from what he had heard before. It wasn't loud and aggressive or fast and playful like the ones they had played in the days since they had come to Riverrun. No, this song was slow, haunting, and mysterious at the same time also whispering seductively in his ear.

It could also have been how Jon Snow seemed to transform when the song began to play. His gait somehow managed to match the beat of the song and make him seem like he was actually a predator moving through the forest. But it was his voice that was astonishing. As he began to sing, it changed from the quite somberness Aegon had known he had to one that was both rich and smooth. He didn't sing the lyrics as much as they flowed out of his mouth and off his tongue.

 _You can say your prayers, work your rites_ _  
_ _burn your little candles day and night_ _  
_ _you can shimmy 'til dawn to the pounding drums_ _  
_ _but you best be ready when the Horned One comes, yeah_ _  
_ _If you wake to the sound of a hunting horn,_ _  
_ _dance a ring in the gathering storm._ _  
_ _If the Solstice time gets your panties in a wad,_ _  
_ _it's just the coming of the Horned God._

 _He will call you out, make you sweat,_ _  
_ _give you a blessing that you'll never forget._ _  
_ _So revel in the chase and let your heartbeat run:_ _  
_ _Blessed are the children of the Horned One!_

 _Hunter who tracks outside of time,_ _  
_ _guardian lord of ancient rhyme,_ _  
_ _brother stag in the musky glen_ _  
_ _and consort of the Goddess in her woodland den,_ _  
_ _we call you forth as we make our way,_ _  
_ _walking in your power every day._ _  
_ _Guide us true in our hunt this night_ _  
_ _and maybe even later in the Great Rite!_

 _He will call you out, make you sweat,_ _  
_ _give you a blessing that you'll never forget._ _  
_ _So revel in the chase and let your heartbeat run:_ _  
_ _Blessed are the children of the Horned One!_

 _If you wake to the sound of a hunting horn_ _  
_ _dance a ring in_ _  
_ _the gathering storm_ _  
_ _revel in the chase and let your heartbeat run_ _  
_ _but you'd best be ready, little one!_ _  
_ _You'd best be ready when the Horned One comes!_

 _He will call you out, make you sweat,_ _  
_ _give you a blessing that you'll never forget._ _  
_ _So revel in the chase and let your heartbeat run:_ _  
_ _Blessed are the children of the Horned One!_

As the song faded away and Jon Snow closed his mouth, all but the Northerners were staring at him mouths agape. Aegon was at a loss for words. That had been like nothing he had seen before. Even as he sang, Jon Snow did not stay in place. He walked before the ladies, keeping his attention on them and in turn, making sure that they stayed focus on him. He would turn his gaze to one of them as he sang, but the most attention he gave was to Rhaenys.

No one clapped. They were still too stunned at what they had just heard. The bastard looked at them all, a look of concern and worry coming onto his face. He looked at his brother with that look. It was then that Aegon found his voice. "You said that you could not sing," he said with a voice that more surprised than accusing. He gestured to the rest of the Northmen. "They all laughed when they talked about it."

Jon Snow looked back at him. "They said I could not play an instrument, your Highness, not that I couldn't sing."

Now that he remembered the first court, it was true. He had long associated playing with singing that the two were inseparable in his mind. But the bastard before him had just proven him wrong. "A warrior and a singer whilst still being humble about your talents and not wanting glory," the prince said. "I have half a mind to take you and have you become a Kingsguard, Jon Snow."

Never had he seen so many surprised and angry eyes focused on him until then, when all the ladies heard his proclamation. They looked at him like he had just taken away their favorite toy forever. He actually felt a shiver of fear crawl down his spine at their looks. It also did not help that the rest of the men there had looks of amusement at his predicament. All except one. "You've already made that promise to a trueborn Stark, your Highness," Jon Snow said quietly, yet loud enough to be heard.

The angry eyes on him were still angry but now they were also curious too. _"He knew?"_ Aegon thought. It seemed the bastard was close to his family to know that. But he also didn't say who it was. A rare thing, most people he knew would boast about a family member becoming one of the Kingsguard. But he didn't. "Aye, you're right," he finally said, "I can only pray that Stark will be as good as you."

The mood began to settle and the angry eyes began to calm. Rhaenys stood up from where she sat against an oak and said, "This should be more festive. Come let us have some more music. Let us dance." As bold as their sigil, she walked up to Jon Dualfang and held out her hand to him. "Will you dance with me?"

He looked at the hand and then her. "It would be my honor, Princess," he said in a quiet voice, taking the hand in his own. Music began to play, much more suited to dancing now, and they all began to dance.

Aegon watched them all from where he stood, noticing that Mya suddenly wasn't amongst his court. His eyes first found Margaery dancing with Renly and then he started looking for the one who had his heart. _"Where is she?"_ He could not see her. He thought it through and realized that if she wasn't here, that could only mean that she had gone to fetch more wine. So, as carefully as he could, he left his court without being seen.

Once he was out of sight of the men and women, he took off at an almost frantic pace to reach Mya. It didn't take him long to reach her, finding her close to a tall elm. "Mya," he said to her as he slowed down to match her pace. As he thought, the wine jug in her hands meant that she had been sent to get more wine.

"Prince Aegon," she said, as formally as ever. It had been something that had irritated him to no end when he had been younger, how she never seemed to buckle underneath his taunting and teasing. Now, he wanted her to stop doing it for an entirely different reason.

"Where are you going, Mya?" he asked, even though they both knew where she was going. "I shall accompany you."

She didn't meet his eyes when she replied, "I do not think that is a good idea, your Highness. Your betrothed will wonder where you are."

His anger sparked and a growl escaped his lips. He stopped her from walking away by grabbing her arm and pressing her against the elm. A surprised gasp escaped her parted lips and her back leaned against the tree. "Fuck Margaery Tyrell," he declared. "I don't want her. I want you. I have to have you, Mya. You know this. Why won't you let me take your hand in marriage?"

Even though the move to put her against the tree had been surprising, her gaze and voice remained calm. "I'm a bastard and the bastard of a traitor too. I am damaged goods."

The way she talked about herself, where she came from, like she was talking about a cut from fabric, angered him. He hated that she put herself down willingly like that. He wanted her to be confident, to be proud of what she was. "I don't care about that."

Her blue eyes, as calm as the peaceful sea, did not break contact with his own. Her hair was cut short and it appealed to him. There was always that small strand that was begging to be pushed behind her ear, something that he wished he could do. "You should. You are the crown prince."

"Aye, I am the crown prince."

"So you would order me to your bed?" she asked, a small hint of fire coming up her voice. "To be your mistress and sire your bastards until you tire of me?"

"No!" he almost shouted, leaning in close, so close that their noses almost touched. "I would have you as my bride. If I married you, we could begin to heal the damage done by our fathers. Westeros gains nothing from me marrying the Tyrell woman." He firmly believed in that and wished that others would too. She had to see it too. He knew that she was not stupid.

She did not reply, choosing to keep her gaze on him. There was something about her gaze that stroke the love he had for her. He leaned in for a kiss but somehow she slipped from his grasp, something she always could do. He fell to the ground and ended up kissing the roots of the elm. "Prince Aegon, you are betrothed," he heard her tell him. "Your family would be displeased."

He got back up to his knees, spitting out the leaf that somehow managed to get in his mouth. "I can handle my family. My parents would see reason, I'm sure."

She was quiet for a moment and then said, "They are not your only family. I believe it would be safe to say that the one thing your cousins disliked more than Lady Tyrell is me." She left him there, kneeling against the tree. When he stood up, she was gone. He didn't follow, instead choosing to go back to his court. He knew that she would be back.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

I will freely admit that having a gem mine in the North is not an original idea of mine. That would come from the author Atri and his story "The Lion of the North." It made sense to me and it also helped in what I was trying to do. I know that this is a world in the Middle Ages but I also believe that it is a real world, so to speak, and thus capable of progression. Having a gem mine and possibly more than one of those is a way for me to grow the North. Of course, there are more ways than one to do that.

As for the song, again that is not one of mine. It's called _Hymn to Herne_. While the original is done S.J. Tucker, I personally prefer the version done by Alexander James Adam. It's got a better of supernatural mystery.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 16: Rhaella

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

At first, the morning had gone as normal in Riverrun. But it had been around midmorning when a horn from the walls sounded and the guards started running about shouting, "The king is near! The king is near!" As soon as those words were uttered, everyone had started running around in an almost panic to make sure that the king and queen received the best welcome that Riverrun could provide.

Of course, that meant standing out in the courtyard to greet the king, which was where Rhaella and her family found themselves standing. Since they were of the blood, they stood close to the representatives of House Tully, Edmure and the Blackfish Brynden Tully. Lord Hoster was still sick and thus had to remain abed. Every nobleman and woman who could squeeze themselves into the courtyard was there, most of all the Lords Paramount (with the exception of the Greyjoys).

Soon, the gates to the Riverrun opened and the king's procession rode in. There were no trumpets blowing or heralds banging their staffs on the ground and proclaiming who was coming, as Aerys was wont to do when he was still alive. First came the remainder of the Kingsguard, Ser Dayne, Ser Barristan, Ser Whent, and the Lord Commander, Ser Hightower. Such a sight would've made a young maiden's heart to flutter and a young man wish to join them. But all Rhaella saw was how they looked away when her brother ran rampant in his madness.

But who came next washed her free of those memories and filled her heart with love. Rhaegar, the First of his name and her firstborn son, rode a black palfrey into Riverrun. By his side was his wife, Elia Martell, riding a smaller sand steed. He wore a black jerkin and hose but the sleeves of his tunic were red and he wore the crown of Jaehaerys the Wise on his brow, something his mother had always thought apt. Elia wore a mantle of black too but the dress beneath was orange, something from Dorne itself. She did not wear a crown but that was normal. Behind them came the Hand of the King, Lord Jon Connington. Rhaella remembered him once as a vigorous young man who was eager to achieve glory for himself. But now, he was a serious man who chose to keep his attentions to the realm. There were more who came after them, but they were hardly important.

When the king swung down from his horse, the courtyard knelt to him. The only ones left standing were his own family. He took the hand of his wife to aid her as she climbed down from her steed. Together they turned to face the courtyard. "Rise," Rhaegar commanded. His voice was gentle but still carried through the air.

They all stood and waited. Protocol dictated that the king greeted the host of the castle first before going to others. That was why he and Elia stepped towards House Tully before their own family. "Lord Edmure," Rhaegar said to Hoster Tully's heir, "we thank you for letting us come into your home."

"It is an honor to have you here, your Grace," Edmure said grandly, sweeping his head low in a bow. "I offer you the salt and bread of my father's table."

"We accept it gladly." Servants began to circulating amongst the newcomers, carrying trays of bread and salt. The first was offered to Rhaegar and Elia, which they accepted.

Once the guest right had been established, Elia spoke. "How fares your father, my lord?" she asked Edmure.

Both the heir and the uncle turned quiet and mournful. It was the Blackfish who answered, "Hoster is still with us. I have a feeling he will recover quite miraculous and say that he will be damned that he dies before I'm married or something like that." Even though there was amusement in his voice and a similar smile on his lips, Rhaella could tell that those words were partly forced.

Her son and his wife did not comment on his words, instead greeting him personally. "Ser Blackfish," Rhaegar said in warm fashion, "It is good to see you again. A part of myself still hopes that you would become one of my seven."

The smile on Brynden's face widened by only a few inches but it became more genuine with those inches. "It was a tempting offer to join the Kingsguard, your Grace. But my brother was quicker and had me kidnapped to be brought back to Riverrun. Besides, I don't think Whitefish sounds as good."

The three of them all shared a chuckle. "As droll as ever, Ser Brynden," Elia told him warmly.

Then they moved to their own family and met them with genuine love. "Mother," Rhaegar said, kissing her on the cheek, "You and Dany have been well?"

She returned the gesture with a proper hug. "Of course we are, Rhaegar."

He smiled as he returned the hug but it faltered when he looked at his house and saw that someone was missing. "Where is Viserys?" he asked quietly. His mother did not reply, only glance slightly to the side. He followed her gaze and saw Viserys standing with the Starks, at the far end of the welcoming group. He did not say anything else about it, choosing to look at his sister. "Daenerys, you are as radiant as ever. I fear the day when you are married, for King's Landing will lose a bright star."

She smiled at her brother and said, "I'm not a star, but a dragon. The stars are the Daynes."

Elia laughed at that proclamation. "She certainly has the fierceness of a dragon," she told her husband before looking at her own children, "Just like our own."

"Aye, that is true," he agreed as he looked to Aegon and Rhaenys. "I trust you both have been doing your duties well?"

"We have, Father," Aegon replied for both he and his sister. "Our hosts have been sweetened, the men friended, and the ladies charmed."

"That is good. And what have you been doing, Rhaenys?" he asked his daughter. That was something that Rhaella loved of her son. While most fathers were content to hear from their sons only, he took the time to listen to his daughter.

Rhaenys smiled at him and said, "Making sure the court of ladies still goes on, Father." She looked over at her mother and said, "It is a difficult task at times but I bear it as best as I can."

Elia chuckled. "As ever, you are my daughter, Rhaenys." They moved onto the Martells, who stood next in line, and who the queen greeted most enthusiastically. "Oberyn, how wonderful to see you," she said to the Red Viper, hugging him just tightly as Rhaegar had for his mother.

"And it is good to see you too, Elia," Oberyn replied, holding her like she would vanish in just a second. When they broke the hug and he looked at the king, the warmness he had in his eyes cooled considerably. "Your Grace," he said shortly.

"Prince Oberyn," Rhaegar said just as shortly. He looked at Arianne and became a little warmer. "Princess Arianne, you seem to become more beautiful every time I meet you."

The heir to Dorne smiled brightly, though not seductively, at him. "You flatter me, my king." She did not say anything else and Rhaella thought that good. She felt that Arianne was too much like her uncle. It was a good thing that Doran was the Prince of Dorne but she could only hope that someone just as calm would be able to rein Arianne in once she took his place. As of that moment, Rhaella's hopes laid in Quentyn Martell.

Next were the Tyrells. "King Rhaegar," Willas Tyrell said, bowing his head low but still gripping his cane tightly. His siblings stood by him, two of them looking attentive while the third looked slightly bored. Their grandmother stood by Willas's side and watched things carefully.

"Lord Willas, is your leg well?" the king asked him, looking down at the cane and the leg.

"Aye, it is."

The Queen of Thorns snorted. "You already know that, so why bother asking him pointless questions?" she asked Rhaegar, giving him a cross look.

Any man would've been enraged and insulted that an old woman would talk to them like that but it said something Rhaella's firstborn that he smiled and said, "Lady Olenna, I would say that your sharp wit is missed in King's Landing but you would no doubt call me a liar since you reside in Highgarden."

"We can only hope that your granddaughter has the same wit," Elia said, looking at Margaery, standing next to Ser Garth and his wife. "Our son will certainly have need of it." Rhaella did not need to look at Aegon to see the small foul look on his face. She knew that he did not love Margaery. But there was nothing he could do about it. That was just a simple fact he would have to live with.

Olenna had nothing to reply with so she just gave a curt nod. Rhaegar and his wife went to the Lannisters next. "Ser Kevan," the king greeted Tywin's brother. The Lion of the Rock was not there himself since he never left his den nowadays.

"Your Grace," Ser Kevan replied. His wife and sons stood close to him.

But it wasn't he or Cersei and her children (who Rhaella the only good one was the two and ten year old son) that they went too next. Instead, they went to the Imp. "Lord Tyrion, have you been well?" Elia asked the heir to Casterly Rock.

"Unfortunately not, your Grace," he replied in a somber mood. "I have come to realize something most horrible. It seems that either I am getting shorter, or my sister's children are getting taller. And since everyone else has managed to stay the same height, I must conclude I am becoming shorter."

Even though Cersei gave him a look of ill-intent and her firstborn barely looked like she could care, the rest of House Lannister either smiled or outright laughed at his jape. Cersei's son smiled the brightest and Rhaella knew that despite his deformity, he loved his uncle. He was a sweet boy, that one. "I trust that your brother has been welcomed back to the family," Rhaegar said, turning his attention to the Kingsguard who stood in his armor by his family.

Tyrion didn't turn his head to look at Ser Jaime. "He has, your Grace. My brother is always welcomed amongst the lions." There was a look of gratitude on the Kingslayer's face when he heard those words. Even though he was a man reviled for what he had done during the war, Rhaella knew that he had been a boy given an impossible choice and did the best he could. She could still remember the look of surprise on his face when she had thanked him for killing Aerys.

When Rhaegar and Elia went to speak to Jon Arryn, who stood with his heir, a clansman who nearly matched his height, and a boy who was clearly the clansman's son, the warmness they had held cooled slightly. "Lord Arryn," Rhaegar said politely, albeit formally.

"Your Grace," said Lord Arryn, just as formally, bowing his head ever so slightly.

"We know young Harrold Hardyng," he said, looking at the heir to the Eyre before turning his gaze onto the clansman. "But we do not know you."

When the clansman spoke, it could only be described as a growl. "I am Shagga, son of Dolf, of the Stone Crows, who are sworn to the Arryn in the Eyre, who is sworn to the Targaryen on the Iron Throne," he proclaimed. Then he all but slapped the boy in front of him. "This is Ned, son of Shagga." The boy looked back at his sire and was ready to attack him, if the thick hands of his father kept him firmly in place.

Rhaella thought that it was something when a savage clansman from the Mountains of the Moon stood alongside the Lord Paramount of the Vale and not kill him. The Small Council and the royal family had heard reports of Lord Arryn making peace but it was another thing to see it with her own eyes. But that name was disconcerting. She thought that her son was of the same mind as he stared at the two. "Ned?" he finally replied.

The Stone Crow nodded. "Strong name, proper name for a Chief of First Men," he declared. His son looked just as proud to share the name.

But Rhaella was concerned about where the name had come from. _"Has Jon Arryn been telling tales of the Starks to the clansmen or has he been taking them to Winterfell?"_ she asked herself. King's Landing had well been aware of the fact that Lord Arryn had travelled to the North and to Winterfell many times over the years, having been sent ravens about the trip. Nothing had seemed to happen but had they been wrong this entire time.

While she mused over this, she noticed that her son and his wife had walked to the next group. "Lord Stannis," Rhaegar said to the Usurper's younger brother, who towered over him by a few inches.

"Your Grace," Stannis said in reply. His brother looked as if he wanted to speak but stayed silent. Rhaella could not help but wonder if Stannis had ordered Renly to be silent beforehand. As far as she remembered, the youngest Baratheon brother had never been one much for protocol.

Elia looked over the group and then back at Lord Stannis. "Where is your niece, Mya?" she asked him. "I would have thought that she would be in attendance."

The man's eyes narrowed and even though she could not hear it, Rhaella knew that he was grinding his teeth. "She is attending to her duties that the Iron Throne has given her. If you wish to know of her location, ask Princess Rhaenys." It was a short answer that was to the point. But anyone who hadn't heard it before would've thought him to be too blunt.

But Rhaegar's wife took it in stride and gave him a nod of acknowledgement. "That is very true. Mya has our thanks for serving so well in her capacity."

Stannis accepted those words as he always had: with a quiet air and a frown. The king looked to his side and found the plainly-dressed man standing there. "Ser Davos, I trust you have fared well since we met last?" he asked the man.

The Onion Knight looked to be a bit surprised at being talked to, by the king no less. "I have, your Grace," he finally said. "My wife has blessed me with seven sons in our years of marriage."

"Seven sons?" the king replied with a surprised smile. "Gods be good, man. I don't know how you would be able to manage seven sons. There are days where I think I can hardly manage one alongside a daughter too!"

"I can admit that had been trying times with my sons, my king. But I have also found that it is best to find them a profession as soon as they are able to handle it. My four eldest boys are men of the seas and my younger ones are to be knights. I believe it will be enough to keep them busy." He did not jape when he said those words. He meant each one of them sincerely and honestly. From that alone, Rhaella knew that Ser Davos Seaworth was an honest and good man.

"Yes, I know of your elder sons. They serve well in the Royal Fleet. Your eldest, Dale, is a fine captain. Perhaps one day he will be a Master of Ships on the Small Council." There was nothing in the king's voice that suggested it would become a truth one day. It was a suggestion only. But Rhaella knew that Aegon had taken note of it.

Ser Davos only replied, "If that is to come, I hope that it will be on his merit and that he will do the duty well."

"You are a fine man, Ser Seaworth, and I am sure that your son will be too if given the duty." Rhaegar looked to the Lord of Storm's End and said, "I did you a service all those years ago when you had me knight him as part of your surrender, Lord Stannis."

Again, the man set his teeth to grinding. "As you say, my king," he said shortly.

"Ser Davos, you still carry your fingers," Elia asked, looking at the pouch that hung around his neck. Rhaella saw the pouch too. She had heard about how Stannis had treated the man who had saved Storm's End. He had cut off the first joints of Ser Davos's left hand for punishment for smuggling but also had Rhaegar knight the man for risking his life to save those in the castle. Many had called what Stannis had done cruel to the man who saved him, except for the man himself.

He clutched the pouch like they would disappear. "I do, your Grace. They have brought me and my family luck."

As the king and queen walked towards the last group, the air in the courtyard became quiet and thick with tenseness. Rhaella wondered if the Starks had placed themselves last because they had hoped that the king would pass them by or if it was how her son had chosen to walk amongst them. But that was moot now as the king and queen approached the northerners.

Rhaegar's eyes scanned them as he came close. "Lady Stark," he said politely, but with less warmth then the others had been given. "Where is your lord husband?"

"Home at Winterfell, your Grace," Lady Catelyn told both him and Elia politely. She held her youngest by his hand. The little boy looked like he would rather be somewhere else then there but he held onto his mother's hand.

The king and queen shared a brief look with one another before looking at the matriarch of House Stark again. "We had asked him to come to Riverrun," Elia said to her.

"You asked, you did not command, my queen," she replied. "My husband does not have fond memories of tourneys. And there must always be a Stark in Winterfell." If that was supposed to sound like a rebuke, it was the politest one Rhaella had ever heard.

"I see," Rhaegar said, turning to look at the rest of the Starks there. "If Lord Stark is not here, then who speaks for the Starks?"

The heir to Winterfell spoke, "I do, your Grace."

He turned his attention to the lad, looking him over like the king he was. "You are Robb Stark, named for Robert Baratheon."

The air became heavy as everyone watched to see what the young Stark would say to that. "I am, your Grace." His face was a neutral one, showing nothing on it.

But Rhaegar continued to watch him. "Tell me, what does your father say about me?"

"Nothing, your Grace," Robb Stark replied.

He looked slightly baffled at those words, drawing his head back like they had stung. "Nothing?" he repeated.

"My father does not speak of you."

"What of my wife?"

"My father does not speak of her, my king."

"Does he speak of the failed rebellion?"

"He does not."

To hear such words were surprising. But Rhaella had a hard time believing them to be true. Men did not forget their losses that easily. They would grieve and relive them again and again, letting their failure drive them on to seek revenge. If Eddard Stark was here, she would have named him a liar for not speaking about what had happened. And from the way her son looked at the heir to Winterfell, he believed the same. "And what does he say of your namesake? Tell me, young Stark, what does your father say about Robert Baratheon?"

The young lord didn't speak right away. His eyes seemed to watch the king and queen before him, looking for something. Rhaella did not know if he found it or not when he said, "Only that he was his closest friend."

Rhaegar and Elia waited, thinking that there must've been more. But Robb Stark stayed silent and watched them. "That's all?" Elia finally asked him, breaking the silence.

"That's all, your Grace."

They didn't say anything in reply to him. Instead, they decided to go down the line of them. To Lady Sansa, who curtsied with perfection, they offered a polite smile. But when they came to the next person in line, the young Arya Stark, they both froze. Rhaella knew instantly why. _"Oh no,"_ she thought in horror.

"Hello, your Grace," the young girl said, giving them a curtsy that made both her mother and trueborn sister wince. "I'm Arya Stark." Rhaegar and Elia still said nothing, only continued to stare at her. She looked them in the eyes with confusion. "What? Is there something on my face?"

"Arya!" her sister hissed in horror. She looked at her with a scowl.

It was then that Rhaegar found his voice. "Forgive me, Lady Arya," he began to say.

"I'm not a lady," she said with a disgusted look.

"Arya, he's the king!" her sister whispered loudly.

"No, it's quite alright," Rhaegar told them both but keeping his eyes on the younger. "Forgive me, but you have the appearance of your late aunt so much, I was caught off guard by it."

Rhaella resisted the urge to groan and hang her head. Of all the things he could have said, he said that before all parties that were involved in the rebellion. But then the Stark sighed in what sounded like exasperation and irritation. "I don't look like my aunt. She was beautiful. I'm just Arya Horseface." She threw a look at her sister, who didn't say anything in response.

Rhaegar's shoulders starred to shake and before long, it was obvious to everyone that he was laughing. His laughter wasn't the loud, boisterous kind that could be heard from one end of a castle to the other. It was actually on the quieter end, like he had just heard a good joke. The Starks weren't the only ones who were looking at him when he laughed. "My king, what is funny?" Robb Stark asked him.

He stopped his laughter enough to reply, "I just remember your aunt saying that she used to be called Longface Lya when she had been a child."

While that had been surprising to hear to the Starks, and possibly dangerous to everyone else, Elia Martell spoke too. "And she was hardly a lady too." It could've been insulting the way she said it. But she said it lightly and with a small smile on her lips. Rhaella knew that Elia and Lyanna had had some interaction before the latter's death but it still could be seen as an insult. She was worried that the Starks would see it as such. But then Arya Stark grinned widely and sent her eldest sister a look.

The king and queen continued to walk down the line until they reached Theon Greyjoy. "Lord Theon," Rhaegar greeted him politely.

"Your Grace," he said back but with a slight smirk on his face as he bowed his head. But when he lifted his head back up, Elia walked up to him and gave him a kiss on each cheek. His eyebrows lifted in surprise while his face blushed. "Uh…Um…"

Elia gave him a kind smile. "We had heard about how you saved my nieces from drowning, my lord. For that, I thank you."

"Oh, well, you're welcome." The younger Stark started to snigger at his reaction and Rhaegar chuckled too. Clearly the boy had not been expecting that kind of reply.

But the mood turned somber and serious when the king and queen reached his brother. "Viserys," Rhaegar said, smiling warmly.

"Brother," Viserys said shortly with none of the warmth. As the two look at each other, Rhaella noticed the differences between her sons. Viserys was shorter than his elder brother by only a few scant inches but much more muscular. Rhaegar's hair was short and fell to the nape of his neck while his brother's was much longer and pulled into a braid that was most certainly not womanish. The king was clean-shaven but Viserys had a beard that was beginning to thicken.

"I trust that Lord Stark has treated you well?"

"Aye, he has. Sending me to the North was the best thing you ever did for me."

Rhaella could only stare at her younger son at his proclamation. It was a brazen thing to say and it certainly garnered shock amongst the loyalist families. But Viserys didn't pay any attention to them. He watched his brother for his reaction. But instead of replying to it, Rhaegar only placed a brotherly arm to his shoulder. "Let us speak inside. We have much to discuss."

"We must settle in first, Rhaegar," his queen reminded him.

He looked at her with a smile. "Ah, you are right. Thank you, Elia." He turned to the rest of his company and spoke, "Let us enter Riverrun." At those words, the rest of the company began to splinter off and do their duties. The Great Houses all followed the king into the castle, their duty to greet him done with.

Most of the Kingsguard followed the king and queen into the castle besides Lord Edmure and Ser Brynden, save two. "Your Grace," the Lord Commander said to Rhaella, standing before her with a bowed head.

"Ser Hightower," she replied coldly. Once, there was a time she would've called him Ser Gerold and thought of him as a fond friend. But that was the past. She didn't even trust him to protect her daughter. "What is it that you want?"

"Only to make sure that you and the princess are well and safe," he replied. But even though he said those words, he looked past her.

She heard Sandor stepped forward. "If you got something to say, old man, than say it," he growled to the White Bull.

"Watch your tongue when you speak to me, Hound. You forget who I am."

Her sworn shield snorted in derision. "Of course I fucking know who you are. I'd have to be deaf, blind, and stupid to not know. You're an old man in white armor who stands around all day doing nothing."

Rhaella decided to stop things before they could go any further. "Sandor," she said warningly, "I have no wish for a fight in the courtyard."

She could hear his growl in irritation but did nothing else. The White Bull eyed the Hound for a moment longer before turning his attention back to her. "Your Grace, the king and queen request that the royal family attends them once they are settled."

"We will be there," she said shortly. He bowed his head again and left. As he left, her eyes found the other member of the Kingsguard still out in the courtyard.

Ser Arthur Dayne stood before the Starks. "Lady Catelyn, Lord Robb," he greeted mother and son politely.

While his younger siblings were staring unashamedly awestruck at the Sword of the Morning, the Stark heir was trying his best to look lordly. "Ser Dayne, is there something you require of us?" he asked.

A faint smile appeared on his lips. "Only to see my niece," he replied as he looked at Jocelyn Sand standing behind Sansa Stark. "It has been far too long since I've seen her."

It was only after Lady Stark gave her an nod of acknowledgement that the bastard stepped out from behind her trueborn sister and walked up to her uncle. "Hello, Uncle Arthur," she said with a smile. "I would hug you but you're wearing armor."

He returned her smile with a bigger one. "It's good to see you again, Jocelyn. You have grown so much."

She flicked her eyes back to Lady Stark for a moment and then to him again. "I've been told that I resemble my lady mother."

He chuckled and said, "Why don't you ask her?" Her eyes widened as he turned around to face the flood of people. She looked around him and saw her mother walking towards them.

Rhaella watched in silence as Ashara Dayne walked to her brother's side. There she stood and looked at her bastard. Even though she had grown older with time's march, she still looked beautiful. She smiled and held out her arms. "Jocelyn, my little star," she said warmly.

"Mother!" the girl cried happily, all but running to her and hugging her tightly. She buried her head into Lady Dayne's shoulder. As they stood there, everyone could tell that they were mother and daughter. They had the same dark hair and purple eyes, both of which made them beautiful to the extent that men stopped and watched as they walked by.

Lady Ashara broke the hug and looked at the Stark, specifically the matriarch. "Lady Stark," she said politely.

"Lady Dayne," Lady Catelyn said back, just as politely but without the warm touch the other woman had.

She noticed the lack of warmth but did nothing to reply to it. "Thank you for watching over my daughter."

"It was my lord husband's decision, not mine." The silent implication of her words was clear. If it had been her decision, Rhaella had no doubt that Jocelyn Sand would've been thrust out to the cold instantly.

But Ashara did not look angry or insulted. She looked over the rest of the Starks. The Queen Mother could not see her expression but she could imagine it was one of longing. The tales of what happened at Harrenhal were quite well known in the south of Westeros. "You have beautiful children," she finally said to Lady Stark.

"Thank you," she replied in that way only a mother could understand. With that last word said, they all left to continue the day.

* * *

It was only an hour later that Rhaella and Daenerys walked towards the small room that the king had taken for the family meeting. They both could hear that Aegon was already inside. "Father, I've heard from the Starks about their gem mine. Did that happen before you started bringing me to the Small Council meetings?"

"Yes, Aegon, it was," Rhaegar replied. "Lord Stark sent the crown a raven about the mine about two years before you started coming."

"Huh. I never would have thought that the North would produce anything worthwhile. It's just snow, hills, and ice up there."

Even before she opened the door, Rhaella knew that her grandson shouldn't have said that. When she did open the door, she could see the slightly angered look on the king's face as he and his son stood before the table that dominated the room. "There is more to the North than that, Aegon. When you become king, you must know the land you rule or you will be a poor king."

Aegon winced like he had been struck. "Yes, Father," he said quietly. "Forgive my rudeness." Rhaegar didn't say anything in reply, only pointing to the seat by his wife.

Rhaella couldn't help but feel her heart tear at the scene, knowing full well where it came from. Her son was an excellent king alongside Elia. But when he had a prince, he had been consumed in fulfilling a prophecy. When he ascended the Iron Throne, he discarded the prophecy to such an extent that no one dared make mention of it in his presence. That fact was especially driven home after he nearly had the red priestess executed for coming to King's Landing to help fulfil it. All because of a woman he had lost.

"Mother," her son's voice reached her ears, bringing her back to the now. She watched him come around the table to hug her and Daenerys.

"Rhaegar," she said back, accepting his hug. She looked at the table and saw that the royal family was there, save for Viserys, and House Martell. The two houses sat on opposite sides of the long table, facing each other. Both Prince Oberyn and Princess Arianne looked amused at how Aegon was treated while Prince Quentyn looked uncomfortable to be there. Whilst Rhaenys didn't look as amused as her cousins, there was a faint smile on her lips. Elia sat near the head of the table, as was her right as queen, and Aegon sat beside her. There were two more chairs on the Targaryen side. Clearly, she and Daenerys had been expected.

Rhaegar finished hugging them both and gestured to the empty seats. "Come, sit down." He walked back to his own chair and sat down in it. The only Kingsguard in the room was Ser Arthur, standing quietly behind his king.

She and her daughter took the seats offered to them without argument. Dany looked around the table and at everyone. "Where's Viserys?" she asked.

"He will be here," Elia assured her. "This concerns him."

" _So it's come,"_ Rhaella thought to herself. She had told her youngest son about what would happen, all that could be done now was to see it through. A sense of slight bitterness formed inside her. It seemed like she had just gotten her boy back and now was losing him all over again.

The door opened again and Viserys. He saw the table, saw how everyone was sitting, and looked at his brother. "Is there no chair for me, my king?" he asked with a cold politeness.

"This meeting is about you, Viserys," Rhaegar replied. "It is perhaps best if you stand for this." His brother said nothing, so he continued. "When we last saw you, you were a child. But now you are a man, Viserys. As such, you have a man's duties; paramount of those is the duty to your family. The line of the Iron Throne must continue and we must make alliances with our lords."

"So I am to be betrothed," Viserys said shortly, still coldly.

The king ignored his voice. "Yes. The queen and I had discussed this at length. In the end, we agreed that it would be best to renew our ties with Dorne and House Martell." He gestured to the Martell side of the table, to which Princess Arianne turned to look at him with a smile that was between seductive and coy. "In a year or two's time, you will wed Princess Arianne and become her consort when she ascends the throne of—"

"No."

That single word, still spoken coldly and shortly, made everyone stare at him in absolute shock. His brother fell silent at it and his mother looked at him worriedly. _"What are you playing at, my son?"_ Rhaella thought.

"What do you mean?" Rhaegar asked his brother, his eyes narrowing into a serious gaze.

"I will not marry Princess Arianne. My answer is no." Both Prince Oberyn and his niece were beginning to look offended at his words.

"Viserys—"

"No, Rhaegar. Whatever you say or try to offer me, my answer will be no again and again. Dorne already has a queen and from her, a son and a daughter. They should not want or need more."

Elia spoke to her goodbrother, her voice calm and gentle. "This is a marriage that will soothe over the grievances made between our two houses."

"What grievances?" he demanded. "The Iron Throne won the rebellion as I recall. And even if that wasn't the case, I would still refuse to marry into Dorne." He gave Princess Arianne a foul look. "If the Princess and her uncle are what is said of the Dornish character, I would stay very far away from them if possible."

Even Prince Quentyn looked shocked and outraged at that comment. His sister stood up from her chair with a look of anger. "What is that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

He kept his gaze on her, his look still foul. "You must have known about this betrothal, my lady. Why else would you look at me like the cat that had laid claim to the entire bottle of milk? And yet, even though we are supposed to betrothed, your eye wanders and you flirt with anyone that walks on two legs and has a cock swinging between those legs. I would even dare to say that flirting is not all you've done with men. How can I expect you to be faithful when you look at every man like they are your next conquest?"

"Uncle, I say that's taking it a bit too far," Aegon began to protest, coming to the defense of his cousin.

But Viserys was not done, for he turned his look upon Prince Oberyn. "But if this man was the one who taught you to behave that way, the fault hardly lies with you. It would lie with him, amongst other things."

The Red Viper's face became a mask of barely constrained rage, morphing into something dark and thunderous. "What, pray tell, do you mean by that, Prince Viserys?" he asked, his voice leaking with such enraged intent that Rhaella feared he would leap out and strike her son at that moment.

But her son simply looked him down. "Was I not clear, my lord? Very well, I will explain it in far more easier words: rein your bastards in. They seem think that being related to the dragon's blood makes them dragons as well and use that to bully everyone and anyone that they can. Clearly, you did not raise them right, if at all."

He leapt out of his chair with such a force that it was knocked down and the sound echoed in the room. "You ungrateful, disrespectful, little shit!" he roared. He started to walk around the table, only to find Ser Arthur in his way. "Get out of my way, Arthur."

"I cannot let you harm him, Oberyn," the Sword of the Morning replied, his hand gripping Dawn's handle.

"Oberyn, sit down," Elia told her brother sternly. He looked at her still with the look of outrage on his face but she matched it with a look of steely resolve. He finally sat down but still glared at his goodbrother. She looked at him too. "Viserys—" she started to say as Ser Dayne went back to his original place.

"Elia, I know that you are the queen and my brother's wife. I will love you for that. But I will not marry into Dorne. They have enough, let them be satisfied with it," he told her. "And besides, you cannot betroth me because I am already betrothed."

Rhaella looked at her son with absolute shock and she wasn't the only one. "What?" her eldest son said. "What did you say?"

"I am betrothed," his brother replied.

"To whom?" he demanded.

"To Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell," Viserys answered. "I asked Lord and Lady Stark for her hand and they accepted. Not only that, but when the marriage is made and consummated, Lord Stark has arranged for us to hold lands on Sea Dragon Point. I plan to take those lands and make them strong. I will build a city there that would rival White Harbor and bring trade to both sides of the North."

The way he spoke of his vision, his hope of it and will to make it so, made Rhaella look at him with a new eye. He was his own man and hoped to carve out his own piece in the world. "You would become a vassal of the North?" Daenerys asked him, her voice curious.

He smiled at her. "Aye, I would. The North and the Starks have given me much. It is only fitting that I try to repay that debt."

"Viserys, this is absurd," Rhaegar told him, getting irritated and going towards angry. "You're not going to be marrying into the North. You will marry Princess Arianne and mend our ties with Dorne."

" _I do not think that the princess appreciate that now as much as she had before,"_ Rhaella noted. Arianne looked at her son like she wanted to hit him again and again without stopping.

"I will marry Sansa Stark. There's nothing you can do to stop that from happening, Rhaegar," Viserys replied. "By doing, I will be fixing something that our house has failed to fix for well over two hundred years: upholding our end to the Pact of Ice and Fire."

His mother knew that pact well. It had been made during the Dance of the Dragons between Rhaenyra Targaryen and House Stark. In return for their support, the wolves would have a Targaryen princess to take into their house. Well, Viserys wasn't a princess but he was taking one of the Starks into marriage. It wasn't ideal, but she thought it could work and help mend the issues with the North. But then the king spoke. "That pact has already been fulfilled."

"By you?" retorted his brother with a sarcastic bite to his words. "As I recall, kidnapping Lyanna Stark does not constitute fulfilling the pact. Neither was causing a war." He looked at everyone in the room. "If this was the only concern for this meeting, I'd call it pointless and done with. Good day to you all. I will see you at the feast tonight." He turned and walked out of the room without any further words.

Rhaella watched him go with a strange sense of pride. Watching this all happened reminded her of how her father had ordered her and Aerys to marry each other despite neither of them wanting it. Except this time, her son found the strength and resolve to refuse.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

So, the king has finally arrived. Took him long enough, huh?

Greeting multiple families of great importance is probably done differently than just greeting one family. You would have to go down the line and greet them all instead of just picking one and brushing the rest off. Doing this also shows how Rhaegar sees the other Great Houses.

If Arya can be compared to Lyanna, then it should be safe to say that Lyanna went through the same thing her niece went through as a child. She probably grew into her beauty, not have it right away.

I think it's safe to say that Sandor and the Kingsguard (or at the very least, some of them) have a strained relationship. They see him as an outsider who is nothing more than a brute. He sees them as inefficient idiots who just stand around and do nothing. Of course, he learned most of that from Rhaella.

To the reviewer who thought there was going to be a Sansa/Viserys thing happening, you got it in one. That had been the idea around the same time the supposed betrothal between Viserys and Arianne came into my head. Since he was raised in the North and felt a great many things of him were because of that upbringing, Viserys would feel the need to repay that. Of course, this was also a way to pull the Dornish characters off their high horses. Now, I'm not bashing the Dornish here, but they are a bit smug and confident in this story.

I'll see you next chapter!


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 17: Jon

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

He could hear the feast coming from the hall. It was as loud and festive as the first night, probably even more so since the king was now here in Riverrun. But Jon Snow was not inside eating the food and drinking the wine. One look from Lady Stark before the feast had begun was all he needed to understand that he would be taking his dinner from the kitchen. Well, at least the food would be hot if he did that. Which was where he ate quickly before the feast had started.

He was in the training yard, hacking and slashing away at the training dummy. Ghost was resting nearby, his head lying atop his paws. Ever since he had bested both the prince and Ser Loras it was like he was swarmed by boys wanting to learn what he knew. It had been a little overwhelming at first and he had given a few lessons to groups but now it was beginning to become a little aggravating. He did not mind other people in the yard. He just wished there weren't so many all at one time. It was only on these kinds of nights that he could train in peace.

The training also gave him time to think about what was happening in Riverrun. He was no soft-minded fool. There was something going on with the noble ladies in the castle. With the exception of those who came with the Northern party, every single lady of noble birth seemed to pay close attention to him and took every chance to talk to him. It seemed odd to him that they would want to talk to a northern bastard when there were men like Robb who had no betrothals and were certainly more handsome. But no, they kept paying attention to him.

It was unsettling and it made him suspect that there was something else to it. But for the life of him, he did not know what it was. He couldn't well ask the ladies because he knew that they wouldn't tell him. He couldn't also ask the southern men because either they didn't know what it would be or would and just label him a fool for not knowing. Even those who were to be betrothed, such as the Lady Margaery, were trying to get and keep his attention.

Of course, it wasn't all bad. It was because of this that he was able to see the Princess Rhaenys more often than he normally might have. As soon he thought, he felt embarrassed and ashamed for even considering it. He was a bastard. He had no right to even think of the princess like that. She was bound to marry a lord of high standing, not a bastard.

But even as he tried to reaffirm that fact, a part of him remembered her lips on his, the feeling of her body against his hands. He could remember it with such intensity he could feel his blood racing again. _"No!"_ he thought, focusing on the dummy and swinging down hard on it. The cloth line tore but nothing spilled out.

His arm ached a little at such an action but he kept going. With each stroke and cut he delivered, he repeated to himself, again and again, _"I cannot have the princess. This is not a story. We will never see each other again after this tourney."_

And that was another thing that was a little concerning for him. All those ladies seemed to expect him to join the tourney, even though he had tried telling them that he wasn't going to. It seemed like every time he did, his protests were overridden or they just did not seem to believe him. _"Would it be so bad to join?"_ some part of him wondered. It would be a chance to win to glory and perhaps gain some recognition. If he won the joust, perhaps he could crown the princess…

" _No,"_ he declared, shutting down that hope before it could spring. Not only was Robb better at the lance than he was, this was Lady Catelyn's birthplace. That was why he didn't join the tourney right away in the first place. She wasn't the one who invited him, so he was trying to stay out of her way and not cause any problems. Hopefully, when those ladies saw that he wasn't a part of the tourney, they would let the subject go.

" _You'd be disappointing your friends if you didn't join."_

He found that thought ludicrous. He was the only bastard in the group. They would not miss him staying away from the tourney. Even so, he was glad to have them. They were an odd bunch, made of princes, cravens, bastards, and smallfolk with a dwarf lecturing them and giving lessons in those lectures. It sounded like something that belonged in a silly song but he was glad to have them.

Yet it was odd that they looked to him to be the leader amongst them. He had thought nothing of leadership and if it had to be someone, he would've named Prince Quentyn. The Dornishman might not have the same confidence Robb had, but Jon Snow had seen that they both watch before they speak what they think. It was why his fellow Dornishmen listened to him when he spoke, in spite of their jesting natures.

As he delivered a slashing movement that would've decapitated a normal man, Ghost lifted his head and looked at the hall. "What is it?" he asked, stopping instantly. He hoped it wasn't one of the ladies hoping to watch him train. He had been embarrassed enough when caught by the princess and almost with no tunic either.

His wolf did not reply but the doors banged open and a child screaming in fright came running outside. Another boy came running out and started chasing the first around. "Go away, go away!" the first boy shouted, tears streaming down his face.

"Craven, craven!" the second yelled after him, holding a knife in his hand.

" _What is going on here?"_ Jon wondered as he watched the two run around and around. He saw that the second boy was possibly one of the mountain tribes from the Vale, remembering how one of them came with Lord Arryn to Winterfell once. Perhaps if he spoke to him in the manner he was accustomed to, it would get his attention. The second boy was dressed richly. In the light of the torches, Jon could see his hair was yellow.

He stepped away from the training dummy and between the two boys, grabbing the second boy by the arm. "What's going on here?" he demanded.

The boy struck him in the side with his free hand. "Let go of me!" he shouted. Ghost came to his side and bared his teeth, making the boy fall silent.

The first boy came to him. "Thank you, ser," he said, still weeping.

He looked at both boys. "What's going on here?" he asked again.

"He wouldn't leave me alone!"

"He's a craven," the first boy shouted back. "Cravens should not live." He tried to reach out and stab the other boy.

Jon held his knife-holding hand still and stopped it from even moving. "He's only a boy. How do you know he's a craven?" The second boy struggled to free his hand rather than pay attention to him. "I asked you a question."

"I don't have to speak to you!"

He gave the boy a look. "A whelp like you speaks to a bloodied warrior so? Did your father not teach you right?" he demanded.

The boy stopped his struggling and looked at him with a new eye. "Aye, my father taught me right."

"Then name him."

"Shagga, son of Dolf, of the Stone Crows," he proclaimed.

Jon knew that name. It belonged to the man Lord Arryn had brought to Winterfell a year or so after the Greyjoy Rebellion. He remembered wondering who the man was and if he was dangerous or not. That had been the extent of his interaction with Shagga. It was Robb who stood before him and matched him eye for eye, making the clansman chuckle and say to their father that he had a fine boy. "I know Shagga, son of Dolf. He came to the North with Lord Arryn to visit my father."

The boy's eyes widened at those words. "You are a child of the Stark in Winterfell?"

A piece of him was torn at that question. It made him sound like he was trueborn when he was not. But he couldn't say that he was a bastard or he was sure that whatever he was trying to do would fail. "Aye, I am. And who is the son of Shagga?"

"Ned," he proclaimed proudly.

He didn't say or do anything at that proclamation, only turning to the second boy. "And you are?"

"To-Tommen Lannister, ser," he said, hiccupping through his answer. His hair made sense now and through the torchlight, Jon could now see his green eyes.

He looked at the boy, seeing that he was similar to his elder sister, Tya. But he had a plumpness to him that meant he ate well and probably did not attend the training yard much. The clan boy, on the other hand, was certainly not pump. "Why were you attacking him?" he asked Ned.

"He's a craven!" the Stone Crow snapped, repeating his earlier words.

Jon repeated his. "He's a boy. How can you know if he's a craven?"

"He's an Andal," he all but spat the name, making Tommen cower behind the bastard.

Jon Snow remembered what the Imp had told them all when the Lady Shireen had come asking a question. He didn't think that such knowledge would be useful. Until now, that is. "He has the blood of the First Men, the same as you and me." That might have been stretching the truth a little bit but he was using it.

And it worked. Ned looked at the boy with a new eye and Tommen looked at him with surprise. Finally the boy from the Vale said, "He's still a craven."

"And how do you know that?" Jon asked him again. "Do you think that you're a better warrior then he is?" He knew the answer even before the boy replied. Doubtless when he had been trained, there was no boy in his clan that could stand against him. But fighting alone was not the full way to a warrior's potential. Jon had learned that lesson and now, there was a chance he could. "Have you a back brother?"

Tommen looked confused but Ned stared at him in surprise. The surprise turned anger and then annoyance. "No," he finally replied.

" _Good,"_ thought Jon. There wouldn't be any complications from that. "If that is so, then _he_ is your back brother," he declared, pointing at the Lannister boy.

"What?" both boys shouted at him, although Tommen's was more of a yelp than an actual shout.

"He is not going to be my back brother!" Ned shouted, completely angry. "Why should I allow this to happen?"

He didn't say anything. He just stepped back away from them, leaving a gap between them. Ghost bared his teeth at the boys and crouched to attack. The boys reacted instantly, slamming into each other's back so hard they cried out in pain and fell to the ground. _"It's something,"_ Jon thought to himself "That's why," he told the boy from the Vale as they got back up. "You are back brothers now, so you will learn as back brothers. You will eat together, learn together, and train together. Am I understood?" They did not reply. Ned scowled but nodded in acknowledgement.

Tommen still looked confused. He continued to look confused as he was all but dragged back into the hall by Ned. Jon watched them go; only turning his back once they had vanished inside. _"I hope that goes well,"_ he thought to himself. He held hope that it would, that they would find a knight that would train them right. It was probably ironic that he was lecturing them about having a back brother when he himself wasn't sure if he had one. He'd like to think Robb was his back brother but Theon Greyjoy could also fill that spot too.

He didn't want to think about it and so went back to the training dummy. Soon his world became just a series of cuts, slices, and hacks, all focused on the enemy before him. He attacked again and again, working up a sweat. Once he had thoroughly killed whatever enemy that had come at him, he came to a stop and breathed. Then he turned to where he had placed the second sword.

He started the warm set when he heard a man's voice speak from behind him. "You wield them well. The prince was not jesting then."

Jon Snow turned around to see who it was now and looked upon Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He felt his tongue grow thick inside his mouth and he could not form words as he looked at Joce's uncle. There were days, many days, when he wondered if this man was his uncle too. Now was a chance to ask him but his mouth would not work.

Ser Dayne regarded him with amusement. He did not wear his white armor that declared him to be a Kingsguard, only simple clothes with a white cloak. "It's alright, boy. You can speak. I won't harm you for opening your mouth."

He finally managed to get his mouth working and he said, "Th-Thank you for your praise, ser."

"I only said what I thought." He looked more closely at him, purple eyes narrowing slightly in concentration. "You are Jon Snow, Lord Stark's bastard."

" _He knows me?"_ Jon could not help but wonder. "I am."

"Jocelyn has written of you and your family often."

He didn't know what to say to that. Everyone in Winterfell knew that she was the bastard daughter of Ashara Dayne but he had never known why she had come to Winterfell when she did. His father had never told them. "Jocelyn has been welcomed by all of us, Ser Dayne," he finally said, the words almost stumbling out of his mouth.

"Probably not by everyone," the Sword in the Morning remarked, giving him a level look. He didn't say anything else about Joce, choosing to focus on him. "Why are you out here?'

"Training, ser," Jon answered honestly.

"I saw that. But why are you out here when there is a feast going on in there?" He looked back at the hall.

He looked at the hall and all he could see was his father's wife giving him that look. "Lady Stark had made it clear that I was not to embarrass the Stark name whilst in her father's house," he explained. "So I chose to stay away from the feast."

The Sword of the Morning listened patiently as he explained. "You must be hungry," he said.

"I ate before I came out here."

He looked at the sword in Jon's hand and then at him. "I heard that you bested the prince in a bout."

The Bastard of Winterfell felt his throat go dry. "He insisted." As soon as he spoke those words he felt like a fool. What a thing to say to a Kingsguard! It sounded like an excuse and not even a good one.

"I also heard that you best him with two swords, one of which was his own.

What could he say to that? If he bragged it would probably seem rude. "I did," he chose to say.

"So you can wield two swords in tandem." He looked over him with focused eyes. "Tell me, is it natural or did you train yourself to do it?"

"Natural, ser," he answered.

A small smile broke out on his face. "It is rare to meet someone else who can claim such ability. Tell me, Jon Snow, would you mind if you sparred against me?"

The question struck him dumb. "You-you want to spar against me?" he couldn't help but repeat.

"Yes."

To spar against Ser Arthur Dayne, to test himself against the Sword of the Morning, was almost like a dream realized for him. It almost seemed too good to be true and for a moment, he wondered if it was to be a jape against him. "Your pardon, Ser Dayne, but do you not have to guard the king?"

"Rhaegar gave me the night off."

It took Jon a few seconds to comprehend those words. The Sword of the Morning said them with an ease that bordered on uncaring. That was not something he would think to hear a Kingsguard say. When he brought himself back to the present, he found Ser Arthur taking off his cloak. He wore no training gear but neither did Jon. All things seemed even. He couldn't refuse the offer, lest he be seen as craven. "As you command, Ser Arthur," he said.

He grabbed the additional sword and the Sword of the Morning took two in hand. They stood out in the middle of the yard, waiting for the other to make the first move. They held their swords in the same position, the points directed to the ground and kept away from each other. The one in Jon's left hand was shorted by a few inches something that Ser Rodrik had always told him would keep alive when they got close.

Ser Arthur watched him with calm eyes. "Are we going to stand here, Jon Snow, or are we to fight?" he asked.

There was a challenge to his voice and Jon wanted to rise to it. But he did not move to attack. They might have the ability given to them by the gods, but he was no fool. The knight in front of him had the experience as well. If he made a wrong move, he could end up losing the match. _"Do you really think you have a chance of winning in the first?"_ a little voice whispered in his ear.

He ignored it. He took a step to the side and began to walk around the Kingsguard, never taking his eyes off the man. Three times he made the circuit and Ser Arthur did not move. He just waited. Jon felt nervous but he kept moving. He could not make the first move. Not against this kind of opponent. "If you will come at me, bastard, then I will come to you," Ser Arthur told him.

He spun around and brought his swords down against him so fast he almost didn't see them coming. He brought his own swords up in a hasty defense that jarred his arms. They held the lock but the swords were beginning to press down towards him. He pushed against them but they still kept coming down.

Finally he backed away, breaking the lock. But Ser Arthur followed him, his swords swinging in tandem. Jon raised his own blades in defense again, moving them in an easily recognizable defensive pattern. His opponent stuck harder and moved fast then him. If he tried to step away and resume his prowling like before, the Kingsguard would follow and attack again. He wasn't so much as fighting as he was trying to make sure that he lived.

"Come now, Jon Snow," the Sword of the Morning said to him as he swung his blade down low. "Surely you can do more than this!"

His blood boiled at the implications of those words. He had worked on his swordplay. It was all he really had! He would not let it be besmirched. With a shout, he lunged forward with his swords poised to strike. Ser Arthur stepped to the side but he stepped with him and continued the attack. He pressed against the knight, weaving his swords in series of hard strikes and cuts.

Ser Arthur looked somewhat surprised when he followed the step but it did not deter his skill. His swords seem to come alive in his hands and they warded off everything that Jon swung at him. He could push him away or step off in the middle of a parry, making him fall to the ground. In spite of this, the bastard felt like he was alive. If he fell to the ground, he would get right back up and keep fighting.

He didn't know how long the yard echoed with the clash of swords. What he did know was that he was losing the spar. But it just incited him to fight harder, to see if he could win. He swung his swords again and again, wanting to break past that defense and land a touch on the Sword of the Morning, at the least.

He stepped forward, swinging his swords from high and low. The high was met by a strong parry but the low was able to brush pass a weak defense. He pushed forward, hoping to land it on Ser Arthur's side. But the next thing he knew, he was flying through the air and landed face first in the dirt. He wondered in confusion for a moment, trying to understand what had just happened. Then he realized that weak defense had been a feint and he had fallen for it.

He tried to get back up, only to feel the edge of a sword at his neck. Once he felt it, he knew that it was done. He had lost. But did he have a chance in the first place? The sword withdrew from his neck as Ser Arthur said, "You did well, Jon Snow. I see that the name the prince has given you is well deserved."

He got back to his feet and faced the Kingsguard. "Thank you, Ser Dayne."

He walked past him and put the training swords back where he had picked them up. "Once you have some experience, come find me if I'm still alive," he said, going back to where he laid down his cloak. He picked it up and threw it back around his shoulders. "I think it might turn out differently." He walked back into the hall, leaving Jon Snow there in the yard.

The bastard watched him go. Once he was gone, he released the breath he didn't know that he had been holding. _"I just sparred against Ser Arthur Dayne!"_ he told himself with excitement. He went over the memory of the spar again and again, remembering each detail like it would mean life or death in the end. He couldn't believe it. Not only did he spar against the Sword of the Morning but the man had said with a few years, there was a chance he could best him. He was filled with pride and couldn't wait to tell Robb about what had just happened.

But then he remembered where he was and that pride was crushed. Lady Catelyn did not want him to embarrass the Starks. He could not boast about dueling Ser Arthur, not in Riverrun. It wouldn't matter if he had won or lost. Once more he felt ashamed at the fact that he was a bastard and not a trueborn Stark.

He looked over at Ghost but the wolf stood away from him whilst trying to keep his nose out of his direction. The action was confusing until he looked down at himself. He was completely filthy and his clothes stank too. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of it. He looked at the hall. The only way to get to where clothes could be laundered would be through there. But it was too risky, much too risky. There was only one thing he could do. "Come on," he said to Ghost. "We're heading to the river."

When they did reach the river, he stripped to his smallclothes and waded into the water while Ghost watched from the bank. He wasn't exactly sure how to wash clothes properly. He was going to have to figure it out. He put the shirt under the river's stream and held it there for a few seconds. When he pulled it out, it was sopping wet and the dirt had cleaned out some. He wringed out the water and more of the dirt came off.

He repeated the process again until he was sure it was clear. Then he turned to the hose. As he washed, he started to hum a song. It wasn't a complete song. It was something that he was still working on and it was something he kept private. Not even Dom knew about it. He wasn't sure when he started working on it, sometime during his childhood. He knew that it wasn't complete and he still worked to finish it but he didn't know if he ever could.

He came upon the stopping point as he worked on the hose. The hum fell into uncertainty. He tried different notes to the song, going unsteadily and uncertainly forward. At times he paused and tested notes. "That is an interesting little song you're humming," said a voice from behind him.

He went completely still, his hose still gripped in his hand. He turned his head slightly back and saw Tyene Sand standing at the bank. "Lady Tyene," he said politely to her.

"Lord Snow," she said back.

"I'm not a lord."

"And I am not a lady."

"You lie, at least somewhat."

She went still and eyed him. "I beg your pardon?"

"I've heard others say that you are the epitome of being a lady, perhaps even an incarnation of the Maiden."

"And what do you say?"

He looked away and going back to the clothes. "I would say that you are a lady to those who wish to see you as a lady."

"Interesting," she remarked. "But I am not here for me." He heard her take a step out into the water. "What are you doing out here, Jon Snow?"

"Trying to wash my clothes," he admitted, holding up the shirt so she could see it. He wondered where Ghost was. Was he still resting on the bank?

"Why?"

"They're dirty and I believe the washerwomen are celebrating tonight too."

She didn't say anything, so he went back to doing the best he could in washing the clothes. "What's going on here?" he heard Princess Arianne's voice ask.

"The lovely Lord Snow is taking a bath to clean himself, dear coz," Lady Tyene replied. "He seems to be quite dirty."

" _I'm not bathing, I'm cleaning my clothes,"_ he said inwardly. Why was the Sand Snake twisting his words around to mean something that it wasn't?

"Perhaps we should join him, Tyene? The night is a bit warm and I'm sure that a dip in the river would be the right thing to cool us off."

"I think you're right, Ari."

" _Wait, what?"_ He turned his head to look back at them, only to see that they were undressing themselves without shame. He whipped his head around and focused on the opposite bank, the shirt and hose clenched tight in his hands. _"Do not look. Do not look,"_ he told himself as he heard them step into the river.

He pushed down the shirt into the water, making sure that it was good and wet. When he brought it out and lifted it up to twist out the water, he felt fingers on his risen arm and on his back. They felt like little flames dancing against his skin but his skin felt cool. His throat felt dry but he kept his eyes on the clothes. "What lovely skin," he heard the princess remark from behind him, trailing her fingers across his skin, "So pale, like your namesake."

He forced himself to reply. "The snow is paler, Princess Arianne."

He could hear Tyene giggle as she traced a finger of hers across his muscles. "You would know of such things, Lord Snow."

"Please do not call me that."

"Why? Is it not fitting? Does it not satisfy you?" She actually sounded downtrodden and sad when she asked the question.

He kept his gaze focused on his clothes. Even though he wanted to look her in the eye and tell her why, he would not turn his head. "It is not right. I am a bastard."

"Tosh," the princess declared. "That does not matter."

He could feel her hand trailing around his back to his hip, cupping it as if she wanted to hold it. He kept his eyes forward. "It does to me."

She made the faintest sound of irritation and her cousin spoke again. "I believe you were going to me about that little song you were humming to yourself, Jon Snow?"

" _No, I wasn't,"_ he thought to himself. But he couldn't say that. It would be wrong. "What of it?" he asked, trying to ignore the fact that her fingers trailed a circle on his shoulder. It felt like all his blood was going to his groin.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing, a little nonsensical tune," he answered instantly.

"Oh, I think you are the liar now, Jon Dualfang. Nonsensical tunes aren't worked on. They are sung once and forgotten."

"I…I had some time on hand?"

They shared a giggle at that. "I can just imagine. What do you do in the time given to you?"

"It must be a good amount," Princess Arianne remarked, her hand slowly coming around his waist to his front. "The ladies in Riverrun hardly see you until they go looking for you. It's like—"

Her hand was about to his groin when he acted. Quick as lighting he dropped the shirt, grabbed it, and yanked it away. "No," he told her, anger coating embarrassment. His eyes almost fell upon her but at the sight of bare skin he whipped his eyes forward again.

"Oh, oh my," she said, actually sounding breathy with surprise, "How forceful of you, Jon Snow. Perhaps you have the blood of the wolf after all."

"It does not seem to be nearly awakened enough, coz," Tyene said, moving her hand down his back. Her fingers danced against his skin as they went down. "He doesn't look at you or me."

"Yes, I've noticed that too." She twisted her hand around until the palms touched each other.

Jon felt his groin stir at the sensation their fingers played against his skin. "Your Highness," he tried to say, his voice almost strained.

"Why do you not look?"

"It's not right."

She didn't object to his protest or sound annoyed. Instead she reached out with her fingers and clasped his hand. "Look at me," she told him. He looked at the other riverbank, refusing to even turn his neck. "Jon, loo—"

"What exactly is going on here?" the voice of Prince Viserys asked from behind them all. The princess and her cousin turned, letting go of Jon. In that moment, not wanting to look the prince in the eye, he did the only thing that seemed to work in his mind. He dove into the deeper end of the water, still holding his clothes, and let the current take him away.

He swam for a good two or three minutes before breaking through the surface of the river and swimming for the bank. He waded out of the water to a nearby outcrop of rocks. There he sat down, his sopping clothes still in his hands. Ghost bounded up to his side a few moments later. He gave the wolf a look. "If you were human, I would say that you enjoyed that." The albino just lolled its tongue out before sitting against him. He leaned into the fur, welcoming the warmth it offered.

He stayed there, slowly drying off from the air and Ghost's fur. When he felt like he was dry enough, he stood up and turned around. Viserys was standing there. "Jon," he said. "What was happening back there?"

Jon knew that the prince didn't like to be address as such, not unless the situation called for it. So he answered honestly. "All I was trying to do was attempt to clean my clothes."

The king's brother looked him in the eyes. Then he sighed. "Toss me your clothes and go wait in the godswood. I'll bring you back some dry ones." He grabbed the clothes and held them out so they wouldn't drip on his own. He walked away and Jon left for the godswood, Ghost following behind him. As he walked away, he hoped that he wouldn't run any more of the ladies tonight.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

Yes, I kept Tommen the same. There was no real reason to change him. But he's going to turn out different. If you're wondering what a back brother is, it's something that I came up with and will be explained soon. And for the record, no, it doesn't imply anything dirty.

I trust you all liked the spar between Jon and Ser Arthur. I'll admit that I'm not the best at writing fight scenes but I do the best I can. And I do think that sometimes one of the Kingsguard gets the night off, especially when all seven of them are there.

Originally, it was supposed to be Tya who found Jon cleaning his clothes in the river. But I scrapped it because A: it would've drawn a parallel between her and her mother and we've already had that. B: She doesn't really have the courage to wade into the river naked like Arianne and Tyene did. That was what I was going for, them teasing and trying to make Jon crack.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 18: Theon

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

"That is sickening!" Cersei Lannister screamed for all in the hall. Theon looked up from his own food to see her staring down at a boy in front of her. The boy was holding Tommen firmly by the shoulder and the Lannister didn't look exactly happy.

" _What's going on over there?"_ he wondered briefly before deciding that he didn't care and went back to his bread. It was too early in the morning to pay attention to irritating women. Just like his sister, Cersei might be beautiful but under the surface, she was a bitch. But unlike his sister, Lady Lannister lorded her bitchiness over everyone she thought beneath her. Asha just reserved hers for people she personally disliked.

He heard a chair pushed back roughly, crashing down to the ground. He looked and saw one of the Vale clansmen standing with angry look on his face. "What did you say, woman?" he growled. "Shagga, son of Dolf, did not hear you."

Theon recognized that name and once he heard it, he recognized Shagga from when he visited Winterfell. He was staring at Lady Lannister with a look that demanded an explanation or blood. _"Oh, this is not good."_ The westermen and the valemen sat at opposite tables where they could easily see each other. Other Stone Crows were beginning to stand up. Lannister men started to stand up in response.

Cersei looked down her noise at Shagga. "You heard me. What your despicable son suggests is completely sick. How can you allow this?"

"You spit on what makes us First Men?"

"If that is what makes a First Man, perhaps it is a good thing that the Andals came and invaded Westeros! I will not let your son do that to my boy!"

Everyone in the hall was watching the shouting match, even the king and the royal family. It looked like it was going to come to blows. _"Well,"_ Theon thought as he picked up the bread and began eating it, _"I'll get a show."_

But then Sansa stood up from where the Starks sat and made her way quickly down the center of the tables. She stood between the two groups and curtsied to the lion bitch. "My lady, please forgive me," she said quickly. "But this is a misunderstanding, one that is easily explained."

The bitch looked down at her. Her sneer was still on her lips but she somehow managed to look polite again. "And how do you care explain that they intend to make my son a sword swallower, Lady Sansa."

An involuntarily snort escaped his lips when he heard that. _"That's what she thought was going to happen?"_ It was almost too funny. The other ironborn looked at him but he was too busy watching what was going on.

"Lady Cersei, to have a back brother doesn't mean they have to swallow swords. I don't think they have the right kind of swords for that." If it had been anyone else, those words would've been said mockingly and would cause laughter to erupt in the hall. But since the way Sansa had said it was so honest and forthwith, no one laughed loudly. Theon knew that there were repressed sniggers because he was one of them.

Sansa kept on speaking, ignorant of the suppressed sniggers. "Amongst the First Men, having a back brother means that you have someone you would trust to guard your back in a fight and you would do the same in return. There's not a friendship deeper than that."

"Aye, Lady Sansa has the right of it," Jack Mormont said, standing up from where he sat. "Ash might be a pain in the arse sometimes but I'd have no other man watching my back in the thick of battle."

"I can say the same," Asher Forrester replied, standing up too. He cast a glance at the Mormont and commented, "Although we could do something about that smell."

"I'm not the one who smells, Asher. You're the one who stinks like he bathes with pigs," he retorted.

They laughed and the Southerners looked confused, like Theon knew they would be. Some of the ironborn laughed too. "Aye, the lads have it," Shagga declared. "To be back brothers is great thing among First Men." A frown crossed his face, which made it even fiercer. "But it takes a warrior to command boys to be back brothers."

"We were commanded," his son told him.

"Who gave that command?"

"Jon Stark," he answered like there was nothing wrong with what he had just said.

But the entire dropped to a silence so loud, a stone could've fallen to the ground and everyone would've heard it. Theon didn't need to look at the Stark table to know full well that Lady Stark was not happy. _"You're fucked, Snow."_ He didn't think there was a way for the bastard to get out of this.

Lady Lannister lost her enraged look for one that was both smug and poisonous. She turned to look at the Stark table and at Lady Catelyn. "Is that so? I did not think that Northerners would let their bastards parade around with trueborn names."

Lady Catelyn rose from her seat. Words were about to leave her mouth when they left Tomman's Lannister's mouth first. "Um, he didn't say he was a Stark, exactly."

All eyes turned to him and he tried to meet them all, without much success. Theon though that he looked like a dog trying to greet everyone at once while also trying not to piss himself. "Explain yourself," Lady Catelyn told him.

"Well, he made mention of Lord Arryn visiting Winterfell and Ned asked him if he was a child of the Stark in Winterfell, which he said yes to. He didn't say he was an actual Stark." He looked over at his so-called back brother. "How did you know his name was Jon?"

The clan boy threw him a look. "I paid attention and listened. Clean out your ears." Instead of being insulted and retorting like Theon would've, the Lannister boy quailed and looked away.

Shagga watched this all with an eye that could've been called keen on someone else. "Is this Jon bloodied?" he asked.

This made all the Southerners look confused. They looked at one another like headless chickens trying to find a head. Even the royal family was confused. Theon only had to look at them to see the confusion on their faces. "Pray tell, my lord," said the queen, "but what do you mean by that?"

He didn't answer. Sansa did. "It is a term from the First Men, your Grace," she said, curtsying towards the high table. Theon saw Arya over at the Stark table roll her eyes and make gagging motions out of sight of her mother. He smiled at her antics momentarily and went back to his food. "To be called bloodied means that you have taken and given blood in combat. Only when you are bloodied are you considered a proper warrior and all the rights given to that title."

"Aye, the girl has the right of it," Shagga growled, barely even looking at Sansa. "But is this Jon bloodied?"

No one seemed to have an answer for that, even though Theon knew that there were people who had it. He looked at Sansa, waiting for her to say something, but she only stared at the ground. The silence was beginning to grow and yet, no one answered the Stone Crow's question. _"Ugh, you owe me this, Snow,"_ Theon thought to himself as he stood up and said, "Aye Jon Snow is a bloodied warrior."

Everyone turned to look at him. He could feel the gaze of the ironborn and his sister on him. He ignored it to keep his eyes on Shagga. "Who are you?" the Stone Crow growled.

"Theon, son of Balon, of House Greyjoy," he answered. "I was there when Jon Snow took and gave blood. He helped rescued his trueborn siblings and Domeric Bolton from Domeric's bastard brother, fighting the bastard himself and emerging victorious." He remembered the bastard bursting out of the trees and tackling Ramsey Snow, the both of them falling over the fire and rolling through the snow. Their swords were drawn as they came back to their feet and fought. In the end, the Bolton bastard was dead on the ground with a nearly decapitated head and the Stark bastard stood over him.

Both Sansa and Bran nodded in agreement with what he said. Lady Stark lost her anger but the unpleasantness of it was still there. Cersei lost the poisonous look on her face, it being replaced with a look of irritation. She looked back at her son but it was too late. The Stone Crow boy had dragged him back to his side of the hall and sat him down. Together they started eating, although the Lannister boy looked a little unsure.

"Killing one bastard boy is hardly something to be called a battle," Ser Loras called out disdainfully from where he sat at the Tyrell table. The Tyrells sat together with so much green they almost clashed with the Lannister red to their left.

"Indeed," the Bilge Rat agreed. "You make Jon Snow sound like a hero emerging victorious from a battle of the age. He endured one fight against another bastard. I'd hardly call that worthwhile."

The Pack grew angry at those disdainful words. But before anything came of it, Osha spoke cutting words. "It'd still be one more fight than either of you." The hall filled silence as both the Knight of Flowers and Obara Sand turned their glares to her. The glares turned to the rest of the Northerners when they started sniggering.

Theon found himself sniggering too. But the constrained laughter died away when Dom said, "And to call Ramsey a bastard would be to call him human, my lady. That would be a kindness he didn't deserve." He had the hall's attention and his quiet voice reached every ear. "My bastard brother was a monster. When he came to Winterfell with his man Reek to join the Pack, rumors soon followed afterwards of his hunting women through forests with dogs. It was discovered at a feast that he had meant to poison me in order to take my place as the heir to the Dreadfort. That same night when we all thought that he was behind bars to await our father and judgement, he abducted me along with Sansa and Bran Stark. If it had not been for the rescue party set out by Robb Stark, Prince Viserys, Theon Greyjoy, Jon Snow, and Osha there, I think it would be very likely that the three of us would not be alive now."

Both the Reachman and the Dornish woman lost the sneers on their faces at those words as Dom sat back down. Theon just felt the loss of his appetite as the scar throbbed slightly. He put down the bread in hand and stood up from the table as the normal buzz of words filled the air again. His feet began to take him to the training yard so he could practice. Since the king was finally here, the tourney could now begin. What started that afternoon were the beginnings of the archery contest. He intended to win the thing. If he was going to get something out of this damn tourney, it would be proving that he was the best archer out of them all.

He saw the younger Sand Snakes stand up too and he wondered briefly what they were doing. _"Oh right, they've got a lesson."_ He fixed them with a look and they froze in place. They stayed there as he left. He had told them that they should never go into water right after eating. It would be the end of them.

He found the training to be full of archers firing their bows at targets. They must've had the same idea he did. It didn't matter. So long as there was a free target, he would be fine. And there was one, at the far end. He grabbed a bow and a quiver of arrows before walking down to the target. He ignored the looks of curiosity, disgust, or disdain sent his way, even though he wanted to stick an arrow into each of them. He had been getting those looks ever since he had come to Riverrun, especially from those who fought against his father.

He found the target and readied himself there. He pulled out the arrows from the quiver, holding them in his free hand. The others would line up their arrows in neat little rows, some even going so far as to make sure that they were perfectly aligned. He found that to be more than stupid, almost bordering on ridiculousness. It didn't matter how they were placed, so long as the archer could nock them onto his string.

So he stuck the arrows into the ground like he held them, forming a cluster. He picked an arrow from the outer edge and nocked it to the string of his bow. He brought it up and pulled the string back, breathing deeply and keeping his gaze focused on the target. As he drew the string back, he heard that annoying voice behind him, saying "You're going to miss."

He almost jerked on the string and almost sent the arrow up into the air. But he didn't do that. Instead he kept his nerves and focused on the target. He released the string and the arrow flew true, striking the target. "I think not," he finally said, looking over at the Sand Snake.

She sniffed disdainfully at him as she idly tapped her fingers against her leggings. "One shot out of many missed doesn't make you good. It makes you lucky," she retorted.

While she was rather irritating and he would have loved to shut her mouth with a fist, Theon could admit that as he looked at her he found his cock stir. The Sand Snake in front of him looked like a Summer Islander with her black hair cut short but was still curly. The leggings and tunic she wore did nothing to hide her breasts and curves. If he didn't know any better, he would've thought it was done on purpose. There was a way with her eyes that almost seemed to see everything that in her sight, even him.

Yes, she was a beauty, not in the green land view of it but a beauty. Hers was a beauty almost like his sister's. But the difference between the two was that his sister's arrogance came from confidence of being a captain. The Dornish bastard was arrogant because of who her father was and what her family was. "I haven't seen you pull a bowstring back, so you shouldn't have anything to say."

She scoffed. "I don't need to show my skills off to you. I already know that it is much better than yours."

It sounded like she was planning to join the competition that afternoon. If that was to be the case, he had an inkling that she would not do well if she didn't practice. "If your skills as an archer are anything like your skills as a swimmer, I guess that the rest of us will not have anything to worry about. Now if you will excuse me, those of us who take our training seriously need to work on our skills. After all, we're not little girls who play at war."

He turned back to the target, pulling another arrow to the string and nocking it. "What?" he heard the bastard ask from behind him.

"I know you're not deaf. I called you a little girl." He pulled the string back and aimed at the turret. He breathed in and out, focusing solely on the target.

"I am a woman grown and a warrior too."

He released the arrow and it flew at the target, striking close to the center. As he lowered his bow, he scoffed at her. "The first is only barely and the second I disagree with. A warrior who proclaims that he does not need to work on his skills is the day he becomes a braggart or dead. Since you're not dead, you must be a braggart."

He could hear her breathing getting angrier and he smirked. It wasn't so nice to be on the receiving end. He continued his practice and ignored her. He found it easier to do when she wasn't talking. "I am not a braggart," she finally said.

"You are," he replied.

"I am not and I will prove it."

He still didn't look back at her as he nocked another arrow and pulled back the string. "How?" he asked.

"I will join the archery competition and defeat you there."

"If you can get to the final round," he replied. He let the arrow loose and it struck the target.

"Trust me, I will get there, I will win, and I will make you admit to all who are there that you are nothing but a pathetic piece of ironman scum."

That was a slur that he had heard before. It hurt but he didn't let it show. "And if I win?"

"You won't."

"But if I do?"

"You won't," she replied, still confident about it.

He didn't give her the pleasure of seeing him get irritated. She already had seen that once and he would be damned before the Drowned God before letting that happened again. "So if I win, you will do what I commend then?"

"I did not say that."

He knew that she didn't say that but he didn't care. "You have to let me hold to something that should encourage me to win."

"You're not going to win," she told him, getting annoyed with him.

"If I'm not going to win, why would you bother joining the competition?" he asked her like he would ask Jon Snow a mocking question that was intended to infuriate. Clearly, it worked just as well on Dornish bastards as it did Northern ones.

"Fine!" she finally declared in a snap of her voice. "If you win the competition, which you won't, I will do one that you command of me."

That made him pause in his practice. He thought over the implications of her words and a smirk pulled across his lips. "I accept," he finally said. "I will see you at the competition, bastard. Now, would you mind allowing me to get back to my training?" She just stomped off. He took it as a yes.

He spent the next two hours there in the yard, firing arrow after arrow, retrieving them when he had run out, and starting over again. He kept training until his arms turned heavy with exhaustion and practice. Most of the other archers had left the yard by now. They were probably the ones who were also joining the joust and the melee. He'd leave that to them and bet on Robb for the joust. The Stark boy knew how to hold a lance. For the melee, he didn't know who it would be. But he knew that it would be one of the Pack.

When he was finally done, he put away the bow and the quiver full of arrows. He made his way down to the riverbank where he had started teaching the little Sand Snakes how to swim properly. He got there and saw a girl, younger than the Sand Snake he just had the irritation to talk to, practically undressed and standing feet deep in the water.

He came down to the bank and she turned to look at him. "You're supposed to go all the way into the water if you want to get wet, not just stand there," he told her. She didn't say anything back. Instead, she just chose to stare at him with wide eyes. She looked a little familiar to him. "Have I seen you around the castle?"

She blushed. "You saved me from the river, my lord, me and my sister."

As soon as she said that, it came to him. She was a Sand Snake, the eldest of the younger group if he wasn't mistaken. "What are you doing here?" he asked, getting to the point.

"You are teaching us to swim, aren't you?" She gave him what she probably thought was a demure and shy look. To him, it was nothing like it. He had fucked serving girls and whores who looked more convincing.

"I'm teaching yours sisters, not you," he told her bluntly. "If you weren't there for the lesson, I'm not going to bother teaching you."

She lost the look for a surprised one. "But, but you pulled me form the river."

"And?" he asked her. He waited for an answer even though he didn't expect one. He rolled her eyes at her. "Just stay out of my way, girl. I don't need a nuisance while I teach your sisters." He stood there on the bank, watching the river churn past him.

The younger Sand Snakes came down to the bank five minutes later alongside their mother. "Good morning, Lord Theon," Ellaria Sand said to him.

"Morning," he said back shortly. He looked briefly at the younger snakes. "Strip and get in the water."

"How far?" asked the youngest of them. She didn't hesitate to wiggle out of her dress and stand there in her smallclothes.

"Until I tell you to stop," he told them. He didn't tell them to get moving. They waded out by themselves, walking with determined looks on their faces. The first time they had done this, they had run in joyously, splashing around in the water like it was some kind of fun game. That quickly ended when he yelled at them for rushing in recklessly. That was the kind of trouble he assumed was what caused the first incident.

"Stop," he finally called out to them and they did. "Sit down, lay on your backs."

"What?" the eldest of the three, Obella as he remembered, said in surprise.

"Sit down, lay on your backs," he repeated, letting a note of irritation creep into his voice.

"But we'll be underwater if we do that!" They all turned their heads to look at him with indignation and a frightened look.

"Then move yourself until only your face is above the water." This was their lesson today. It might seem weird but he knew what he was doing. His grandfather had done the same with him. They would be safe.

He waited until they were properly settled into the water. Then he waited more. Their sister and mother gave him odd looks but he ignored them. Finally he asked them, "What do you feel?"

"I feel something pulling on me!" the youngest snake told him. She was wiggling around in the water, trying to find the pull and where it was coming from.

She wouldn't find it. "That's the river's current. That is what you need to respect if you ever want to swim in a river, the same way you need to respect an ocean's pull if you ever go swimming in an ocean."

Obella looked up and back at him. "Why would we go swimming in an ocean?"

He could feel the rough bark of wood underneath his hands and the roar of the ocean filled his hands. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and forced himself not to think on those memories. "Pray to the gods that you never will, but it never hurts to practice for it."

"Oh, okay."

"What do we do now?" Dorea Sand asked him. She hadn't moved from her spot but she was curious.

"You don't do anything. You stay there until I say otherwise," he replied. He felt a curious gaze on his neck but he ignored it.

It didn't take long before one of them broke silence. "This is boring!" the youngest shouted.

"This will keep you safe," he told her, folding his arms. "I don't care if it is boring. You do it until I say otherwise."

"Is it necessary to shout at them so?" the first girl asked from his side. "They're just little girls."

"You want them dead if they go swimming?"

"No—"

"Then shut up. I already put up with one of you, I don't need another," he snapped at her, barely turning his gaze to look at her. She looked surprised and looked away. He had a hard time believing that she hadn't been snapped at before.

He looked back at the children and saw their mother looking at him intently. "What do you mean when you say that you must deal with another Sand Snake?" she asked him.

"It's not one of yours."

"They are all mine."

That, he scoffed at. "I doubt you gave birth to a Summer Islander."

She frowned. "I may not have birthed her, Tyene, Nym, or Obara, but I still consider them my daughters."

"Is that why the eldest of them run around like they own the very ground we walk on? You can't rein them in?" He didn't wait for her to answer since he already knew the answer. "Why would they? You're only the Red Viper's salt wife."

"…What did you call me?" she asked him after a moment's pause.

He finally deigned to give her a look. "You are his salt wife, that's what you are." He knew enough about the Dornish to know about paramours. They might dress up the name a bit but a salt wife was a salt wife. Why else would the Sand Snakes be bastards and not trueborn.

"The word you are looking for is paramour."

"Paramour, salt wife, it's the same thing," he said with a scoff. There was more he could say, if they were alone. But her daughters were here and he knew better than to say that stuff here. So he went to the basic one. "You're not his wife."

"Why should that matter?" she asked challengingly. "We love each other."

"Then why hasn't has he married you yet?" If they loved each other, they would have married one another.

"Does it matter? Love is love." Neither of them needed to look to see the girl beside them nodding in agreement.

"Can we do something now?" Obella asked, annoyed.

He looked back at the little snakes. "Do you feel the pull?"

"Of course we do!"

"Keep feeling it then." They all groaned in irritation at the command but did nothing else. Good they were learning. If they kept it up, he just might let them wade out to deeper water. As they kept lying there, he turned his attention back to their mother. "If love is love, then why haven't you married him?"

"I do not need to." She made a tsking sound at him. "Honestly, your northerners are strict with your concepts of love. A man does not need to marry a woman to love her. He may have his wife to build alliances and father a family, but his paramour is there to love him. In fact, I've known many lord and their wives who take their paramour to bed with them."

"If that is the case, why do the Sand Snakes and your lover hate the North and everyone that comes from there?" He had seen the looks the elder four had shot every Northman that had come into their sight. Their father wasn't any better. An idea came to him as he thought about it and the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. "They despise Lyanna Stark, don't they?"

She gave him a look. "One can hardly blame them for that, can they?"

He barked out a laugh. He had her now. "If you willingly believe that, then all of Dorne are hypocrites, none more so than Prince Oberyn."

"I beg your pardon?"

He knew that he had her then. "You said yourself that Dorne is freer with love and that is no problem for a lord to take a paramour. If that is true, than clearly King Rhaegar took Lord Stark's sister to be his paramour. So Dorne, and Prince Oberyn, have no real cause to hate her. Why, they should be honoring her for being the king's paramour."

She didn't say anything and before long she left too. The girl didn't follow her, choosing to look at him some more. He ignored her in favor of the little snakes. "Alright, get up," he told them. "Get up and move a little closer."

"My lord," the girl started to say.

He barely cast a look at her. "What? I'm trying to teach your sisters how to swim." She didn't say anything. Instead, her eyes just welled up with tears. It didn't make him sympathetic, just annoyed. "If you're going to cry, go follow your mother." He turned back to the little snakes, ignoring how she left the riverbank.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

 _That's_ what a back brother means.

I know that Theon is essentially throwing Sarella's words back at her but those are words she had said in the books. I get the feeling that the Sarella here is different. And yes, I believe that Alleras is Sarella. The details match up too much.

I don't know the exact feeling Dorne has of Lyanna Stark because quite frankly, they never talked about it. They were always more focused on Elia's death. But I am going to make a guess that it would've been one of disdain. After all, this is the woman who bewitched Rhaegar away from his wife and had the audacity to hide in Dorne. It doesn't matter if she's dead or not, it's what she did.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 19: Arianne

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

The day was over and the feast was going. Arianne watched it all happen from her seat at the royal table. There was a gentle breeze ruffling through her hair, one that wasn't as dry as one she could've felt in Dorne. She found that she rather liked it.

It had been her suggestion to the king and queen that brought the feast outside to the open. She had suggested it to them that morning, after the little scene regarding Cersei Lannister's boy. Her aunt had agreed whole-heartedly and was able to convince the king. The heir to Dorne found the night to be quite pleasant. If the wind was drier, she would've thought that she was back in Sunspear.

She thought that the day had gone rather well, for the beginning of the tourney. There had been the opening matches for the joust but the main focus of the day had been the archery contest. She knew that her cousin Sarella would join and she would reach the final competition, in spite of what everyone would say about it. However, the only irritation wasn't the fact that there were others who had reached the final, but rather that Theon Greyjoy had reached it too. The ironman had been offered a hand of friendship from Dorne for saving Elia and Obella, but he rejected it with scorn. It was enough to earn her ire.

But that was not the only thing that irritated her. All she had to do was look at the Stark table, gaze upon their eldest daughter, and anger burned within her. Sansa Stark was pretty there was no doubt about it. She looked like she had barely flowered and her body was already turning into a womanly form. And with her red hair and blue eyes that proclaimed her to be a Tully, she was quite striking and received looks from the men at Riverrun.

But it wasn't her looks that irritated Arianne. It was how she behaved and acted. She acted so innocent and naïve, and the way she talked it was like she believed that the songs were real and she was living amongst them. _"Foolish, foolish girl,"_ she thought to herself. _"Don't they teach you anything in that frozen waste?"_

But it was also the fact that she was betrothed to Viserys Targaryen and she acted like it did not matter one bit. Even before she had flowered she had been told that she would marry the king's younger brother. She hadn't given it much thought then. But after she had shared her bed with men, she understood what it truly meant. When she looked upon the king and her cousin, she fantasized about Prince Viserys. In her mind's eye he was just as handsome as Rhaegar and Aegon but with a rougher edge since he came from the wolves now.

When he arrived in Riverrun, he didn't disappoint. She gazed upon him and thought him to be a true man of the North with the beauty of the dragons. She had looked him in the eyes and sent him a mysterious smile that she knew made men's knees weak. But he had ignored the smile and had treated her no different than any other woman he had come across. She had thought that he was playing hard to get. She enjoyed going after men like that, particularly when they were handsome.

But the king came, Prince Viserys was told of his betrothal, and he refused it. No, he did more than refuse it. He insulted her, her uncle, and Dorne. And then, he had the audacity to declare he was betrothed to the insipid little girl sitting there. He sat next to her and whispered something in her ear. Red flamed in her cheeks and she let a very lady-like giggle.

Anger burned through her body at the sight of them. Seeing the prince acting so content and happy just reminded her of what happened last night. He had looked at her and Tyene with a look that had all but screamed of how right he had been. He might've looked them over once but said nothing, leaving as soon as he had appeared. If she hadn't known better, she would've thought that he had been lying in wait.

But her mood changed as she thought about what had been happening before the prince had shown his face. Jon Snow, standing waist deep in the waters of the river, a sight she enjoyed. But it wasn't one she had enjoyed fully because they had been interrupted. She had been so close, she just knew it. If they hadn't been interrupted, she knew that she would've been able to get the bastard to look at her. She could still feel his skin on her hands. And those muscles, oh, she could feel those too. All taunt and perfect. When she saw the water fall off his arms, the drops emphasized the muscles even more.

"Are you enjoying the food, Princess?" Lady Ashara asked from beside her. Her voice brought her out of her thoughts like Nym's whip cracking.

"Yes, yes I am, Lady Ashara," she replied evenly, stopping herself from being surprised. "The food is excellent. I did not know that food from the Riverlands could tasteful."

There was an amused look on her face and she knew that she had been caught. "You're lying," the Lady of Starfall said.

"Ashara," Queen Elia admonished her from where she sat down the table, next to the king. Since they were of the queen's blood, the Martells sat at her right at the high table.

"It is the truth, your Grace," she said, looking at the queen and her friend. "You can see it on her face." She looked back at Arianne. "So, what was it you were thinking about? Perhaps it was the Woman's game?"

She was a little surprised that she knew that. None of the ladies playing the game had told their chaperones or the ladies that had come with the royal entourage. "How did you know?"

She smiled. "I do have eyes, your Highness. I know what to look for. So, tell us, who is the poor man you've decided to prey on?"

Arianne only gave her cousin a brief look before answering, "Jon Snow."

"Jon Snow?" her aunt said with a curious look.

Surprisingly enough, it was Lady Dayne who answered, "The bastard of Eddard Stark." She said it with a somber tone and looked at the Stark table with sadness in her eyes. Arianne saw the sadness and was confused by it. She looked to her aunt and saw there was sympathy there.

She wondered why those were there. But then she remembered Jocelyn Sand. In another life, Ashara might have married Lord Stark instead of him marrying Catelyn Tully. "My apologies, Lady Ashara," she apologized. "I did not mean to drag up painful memories with my words."

She looked a little surprised for a moment, looking across the table at her. Then the surprise vanished. "Think nothing of it, Arianne," she said, waving it away with her hand, although her eyes lingered on her daughter at the Stark table. "So tell me, how has Lord Stark's son vexed the young ladies of the court?"

Her attention was turned away from the trout marinated in a white wine sauce. "What do you mean by that, my lady?" she asked her.

The older lady smiled like she was privy to a jape only she knew. "If Jon Snow is anything like his father, then he has done a few things that have irritated the ladies of the court while not being actually aware of it." Her look became thoughtful. "I would say that he has not responded to the advances you have given him, he's kept to himself and out of the way, and he refuses to discuss if he will join the tourney or not."

Again Arianne shared a look with Rhaenys. That was it exactly. Jon Snow had done those exact same things. While it had vexed everyone, it just made them want to win even more so. But how was Lady Dayne aware? "How did you know?" she dared to ask the lady. She didn't have to look behind her to know that Rhaenys was looking too.

She just chuckled. "If there hadn't been that little 'incident,'" she said, casting a look at the king, "the tourney at Harrenhal would probably have been remembered for the Women's game with Eddard Stark as the chosen man."

Those words, so easily spoken like she was talking about a horse, would have forced Arianne to sit down if she had been standing up. "Is this true?" she dared to ask, almost thinking that it was a jape. She looked over at her uncle and saw that he had a foul irritated look on his face. If he had that look about, it must've been true.

"It's true, Arianne," Queen Elia told her. "At Harrenhal, all the ladies, from Cersei Lannister to Lysa Tully to my friend Ashara, vied to convince Eddard Stark to ask for their favor. It was a long, hard fight but in the end, the Lady Dayne stood victorious."

She didn't look that satisfied with the results of that game. Or she was thinking of what that tourney was remembered for. But Arianne didn't care about that. "So you've been through the same as us?" she asked, wanting to be sure.

"More or less," Lady Ashara replied.

Elia chuckled. "There's no need to be modest, Ashara."

She still looked somber. "It is in the past, Elia. I would like to keep it there."

"At least you can take some satisfaction in what happened," Rhaenys remarked from where she sat. "You saw Cersei Lannister fail in something."

"It wasn't from a lack of trying." There were the faintest hints of a smile on her lips when she said that. It almost broke her somber mood, but it held.

But Arianne's royal cousin wouldn't be deterred. "Perhaps you could give us some advice? He's not like any other man we've played for."

"That's because the boy is from the North and although he may be a bastard, he has the Stark blood in him," she told Rhaenys.

"Aye, we know that well enough," Arianne chimed in. She looked at the king. "It seems that your warning about Starks and meeting them in moonlight was true, your Grace." She might've laughed lightly at those words, like it was a jape. But she still remembered Jon Snow standing at the river bank, so sad and so quiet about it, unwilling to let anyone know the pain he was going through. She had wanted to step out of the bushes when she saw that expression of contained and restrained misery and heal it away. She had wanted to take him away from all that had hurt him to a place where he would be loved.

Then she realized what she had said and instantly paid attention to the king. His face was somber and so was his wife. "It was said for a reason," he said. No one said anything as the air suddenly felt tenser. No one talked about the tourney at Harrenhal anymore, just like no one spoke of the prophecy he had obsessed. She had heard about the red priestess that came to King's Landing and who was forced out of it soon after. "Tell me about this Jon Snow," he finally spoke the silence.

Aegon was happy enough to answer the question, something that both she and Rhaenys were a bit uncertain of doing. "He's a decent enough of a fellow. Lady Dayne has the right of it when she said that he would keep to himself. The only ones who actually seem to know him are his own family and a small group of friends that have popped up here in Riverrun. He doesn't have a good standing with Lady Catelyn but her children treat him well. Also, I think that he would be able to match you for singing, Father."

The remark made Arianne remember Jon Snow's singing. Gods, just thinking about it made her skin shiver. His voice had been turned into something that trailed across her body like a lover's lips, leaving her wanting more. When he had looked at her, it was like he was both seeing through her and marking her as the next hunt.

She saw Ser Arthur smile. "I believe that you are forgetting something, Prince Aegon."

All eyes fell to the prince. He wasn't ashamed to say, "Aye, he has a sword arm that's better than mine. He bested me in a duel."

"A duel?" the queen replied, looking at her son with a frown. "What were you doing dueling a bastard?"

"It was my idea. I had sparred against the Northern men. It was Lord Domeric who told me that Jon Snow was the best amongst them."

"And so you challenged him to a duel."

He looked a little embarrassed. "Actually, it was a spar. And he said no."

The queen paused, actually looking surprised. "He said no?" From off to the side, Arianne heard Ser Whent snicker to himself.

"He did. I tried to convince him that he wouldn't need to fear any consequences but he refused."

"Why?" asked the king, curiosity coloring his voice.

"He kept saying that he was a bastard."

To that, Ser Whent let out an actual bark of laughter. "What is funny, Oswell?" asked the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Even though he was old, all Arianne had to do was look at Ser Gerold Hightower and know that he was not frail. He stood tall and strong, almost like an immovable object. She had once seen a man from the Westerlands known as the Mountain stand before the White Bull in the training yard. Even though he was a good two feet taller than the White Bull, the Mountain could not withstand his gaze and left the field, albeit leaving several wounded men behind.

Ser Oswell looked at his Lord Commander. "Nothing much, Ser Gerold," he replied, grinning darkly. It matched his humor all too well. "I just find someone refusing the chance to spar against the prince to be amusing. I had thought that they all wanted to put the smug little snot right on his rump." If this hadn't been the first time she had heard Ser Whent's humor, she would've thought him to be rude.

Prince Aegon smiled good-naturally at the knight. "Well, Ser Oswell, he was the one to do it. I had to surprise him during one of the dinner feasts but I was able to get that spar from him. He first tried to pretend that he was horrible so I would defeat him easily."

"And I suppose that you caught him on it and challenged him again, ordering him to actually fight the second time around?" Ser Oswell asked him.

"Yes, more or less."

"And how did that go?"

"He beat me," Arianne's cousin said without shame. In fact, he said with a bit of chuckle. "He beat soundly and it seemed almost without effort. He knocked my sword out of my hand and wielded it in his free one."

"Is that so?" the queen remarked.

Ser Arthur spoke out. "The Prince has the right of it, your Grace. Jon Snow is able to wield two swords in tandem."

"Just like you, Ser Arthur," she replied. Those words made Arianne pause. She knew that the natural ability to wield two swords was something that was incredibly rare. Some say that it passed only through the blood. She eyed Ser Dayne again. If those stories were true, then it might be Jon Snow was related to the Sword of the Morning. She cast a quick look at Lady Ashara, wondering if she knew this.

"Aye, your Grace, like myself," he answered. "I sparred against him last night." All the young ladies at that table stared at him with looks of surprise and shock. Jon Snow had sparred against the Sword of the Morning? Why hadn't they heard of this before?

"Did you lose too, Ser Arthur?" Prince Aegon asked with a grin on his face.

"Not in the slightest. The boy is good but he still has a ways to go. He needs experience to further his skills."

King Rhaegar looked thoughtful as he looked out at the festival. Arianne wondered what it was that was going through his mind at that moment. She looked out at the festival too and saw something she did not think to see. Both Willas Tyrell and Asha Greyjoy were sitting at the same table, talking quite cordially, and were sharing a horn with each other. "What else do you think of him, Arthur?" King Rhaegar asked, bringing Arianne out of her thoughts and sight.

Ser Arthur considered his thoughts before he spoke. "I think that if we give him enough time to grow and mature, we might have a promising candidate for a Kingsguard in him."

Arianne did not dare to glare at him for that remark but her blood did burn with outrage at that remark. She wasn't going to let Jon Snow become a Kingsguard, not if it was her decision. But the king actually looked thoughtful to the idea. "I'm afraid that cannot happen, Ser Arthur," Aegon said. "I broach the idea to him and he refused, reminding me that I have already promised a member of the Kingsguard to a trueborn Stark."

"That is not your decision to make, Aegon," his father told him sternly.

He held his father's gaze. "I didn't promise her now or when I sit the Iron Throne. She will have to prove herself to earn a white cloak." He paled when he was done talking, as if he realized that he had said something he shouldn't have.

"Her?" the queen repeated. "You promised one of the Stark girls…" She trailed off. "I believe that I can already guess which of the Stark girls you promised it to."

"It wasn't because of the reason you think," he was quick to tell her. "It was because she declared that she was going to be the greatest knight in the Seven Kingdoms. I told her that if that would happen, she could be on my Kingsguard. Then I swore an oath to make it so. Ser Ryswell witnessed it."

All eyes fell on the Kingsguard from the North. It was because of his origins that Arianne and her cousins felt like they could not trust him. She supposed it was a credit to him that he ignored all of their suspicious or slightly mocking scorn (although that last one quickly stopped after the queen had a word with them). Even now, Ser Ryswell gave the briefest of nods to his king and did nothing else. "You are serious about this then?" Rhaegar asked his son.

"I am," he answered with a nod. "If you wish to know what I would make her do to get that cloak, she could always steal Blackfyre away from the Golden Company."

"As for her being a woman, neither of us can complain about Arya Stark being unable to be a knight," Rhaenys spoke up. "Not since we are both descended from Visenya Targaryen, my namesake, _and_ Nymeria Martell."

The queen or anyone else didn't have an actual reply to that, so they just chose to stay silent. "Who is giving the Stark girl the training?" Ser Jaime asked. Despite his infamy, the Lannister Kingsguard was closest to the royal family, put to third only by Ser Hightower and Ser Dayne.

"The lady Brienne of Tarth, I believe," Ser Mark replied.

He burst out into laughter, surprising everyone at the table. "The wench?" he asked, trying to stop his laughter but failing in his efforts. "She's learning from the wench?"

"Ser Jaime that is uncalled for," Queen Elia admonished him. "She is a lady and will be treated with respect." He was able to stop his laughter and nodded at her.

"How is it you know her?" Ser Gerold asked him, starting intently at him.

It was Rhaenys who answered. "It was when I went to visit Storm's End with Mya. Lord Renly had hosted a small tourney and the Lady Brienne had joined. She defeated Ser Jaime in the melee. She emerged as the victor in the entire melee and Lord Renly awarded her for it."

"I remember that as well," Ser Barristan said. "Lord Stannis had returned that same night, walking into the merry feast. He had rebuked Renly for the tourney he had thrown in front of all of his guests, Ser Loras and Lady Margaery in particular."

"He was not in the wrong," she told him. "He had expressly told Renly to hold no frivolities while he was away at Crow's Nest and he had come home to a feast held for a tourney. But even though he had rebuked Renly, he honored the results of the tourney and even acknowledged the lady to be a fighter of skill to best Ser Jaime."

Arianne began to drift away from the conversation, her eyes following the people moving through the feast. She wanted to find Jon Snow but she could not find him still. She saw that the other ladies were doing the same, some discreetly and some blatantly. But they could not find him. She wondered where he had gone before deciding that he was likely in the godswood. _"It seems he lives there,"_ she thought. She considered going there and found it to be an increasingly good idea.

But when she began to stand, she saw that Sansa Stark stood up as well and left her table. A different thought came to her and she found it much more agreeable. She quickly said her goodbyes to the table and walked away. She eyed her cousins as she walked past them. Obara, Nym, and Tyene followed her.

The girl went from the feast to the path to the godswood. She went without protection, more fool her. It wasn't like Arianne or her cousins were going to kill her. No, they wouldn't do that. But they were going to frighten her. It was nothing that she wasn't going to deserve, the little twit.

"Oi, you," Obara called out once they were out of sight of the feast.

The girl stopped and turned around with a confused look. The look disappeared when she saw who it was behind her. "Princess Arianne," she said, dipping into a small curtsy. "A good evening to you…and your cousins," she added the last part after a moment of silence, looking uncertainly at the Sand Snakes by her side.

If there was one thing Arianne could give the girl, she knew her manners. "Where are you going, Lady Stark?" she asked.

She looked a bit embarrassed. "My brother wanted me to go and see how Jon is doing with his group of friends," she explained, her embarrassment mixing with shame, like she did not want to do the task she was given.

While that news would've interested the princess of Dorne at any other time, she was too focused on her target in front of her. "Is there something bothering you?" she asked, "Do my cousins bother you?"

"No. Why would they?"

She kept her eyes on her. "Perhaps they are bastards?"

"That wouldn't bother me, my lady."

"Princess," she said instantly. "I am Princess Arianne. You would do well to remember that."

The Stark girl's face reddened but she only said, "I apologize, Princess. But I am not bother by your cousins being bastards. My half-brother is a bastard too."

"We are not talking about Jon Snow," Obara told her. She didn't have her spear but that didn't make her any less intimidating to Arianne.

"T-Then what are we talking about?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly in uncertainty.

"We're talking about you, Lady Stark," Nym said, walking around her like a snake coiling around to strike her pray. "We're here to discuss the insult your family has dealt to Dorne."

Sansa Stark looked aghast and shocked. "What insult? I was not aware of any insult. You must be mistaken, my lady. My family would not insult Dorne. I was led to believe that the North and Dorne had a trading arrangement."

Arianne knew about the arrangement. Her uncle had often said that he was surprised that Lord Stark had been able to come up with the idea to mine and import ice to warm kingdoms like Dorne. But she didn't care about that. "Perhaps we should be more specific than."

"Yes, perhaps we should," Tyene agreed, walking the opposite side of Sansa. Together with Nym, they encircled the girl. "We should talk about the insult that _you_ dealt to Dorne."

"Me?" she repeated stupidly. "But-but I have been nothing but courteous and polite to you. I had heard that it was Arya who had insulted you."

Arianne did remember what the little chit had said but she was not paying attention to that now. She was more focused on the Stark in front of her. "Were you aware that you are betrothed to Prince Viserys?" she demanded.

She nodded her head uncertainly. "Yes, I've been aware for a year now."

"A year?" she repeated, making the girl's words sound mockingly, "How short. Were you aware that I have been betrothed to Prince Viserys since I was ten?"

"What? Is that really true?"

Her look turned hard and her cousins stepped in closer around the girl. She looked at them all, completely scared now. "Are you saying that I am a liar, little wolf?" Arianne asked her, her voice turning angry now.

She was trembling now and the Dornish women were enjoying it. "No, I'm not saying that, your Highness. But perhaps you were mistaken."

"So I have been mistaken when I was ten, was it? I was mistaken when both my father and the king told me that I was going to marry Prince Viserys when he came back down from the North?"

The Stark girl's eyes were trying to look at them all at the same time, even Nym who stood behind her. "We didn't know anything about a betrothal. I assure you if we had, my lord father would not have allowed our betrothal."

"Is that supposed to be comforting?"

"It's the truth," she said. If her eyes went even wider, they'd burst out of her head.

"We don't care about the truth," Obara told her in a snap. "What we care about is what you done."

"But I haven't done anything!" Tears started to appear in her eyes, making her look even more pathetic. "If I have caused any insult, it was unintended. You must believe me."

"Hmm, I don't know," Tyene said lightly. The way she spoke as she neared the girl, she sounded like she was talking about a trivial thing. "The insult is rather serious. We should treat it as such."

"Do you suggest a punishment, sister?" Nymeria asked her.

"I do. I suggest that every time she seems close to the prince, we remind her that he doesn't belong to her."

Sansa Stark looked like she was about to piss herself. She tried backing away from them but Arianne's cousin moved with her, stopping her from getting free. "I-I'm his betrothed," she said weakly.

"So am I," Arianne retorted, "much longer than you. So—"

Three things happened at the same time. Direwolves appeared at Sansa Stark's feet, teeth bared at her cousins and growling loudly. Jon Snow and Quentyn appeared from the path leading to the godswood. Prince Viserys and Mya Stone walked up behind them, coming from the feast.

"What in seven hells is going on here?" Viserys demanded, his face looking absolutely murderous. Sansa saw the look and went to his side instantly, fitting her hand into his. He looked down at her hand and it seemed to calm him down.

Obara frowned at him. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

It was the Ursuper's bastard who spoke. "I brought him." She looked directly at Arianne. "I saw you go after Lady Sansa, your Highness, and I had a feeling it wouldn't be for something good. So I let her betrothed know."

"He's _my_ betrothed."

"No, you're not," the prince spat at her.

Her anger grew at that rejection. But before she could say or do anything, Quentyn spoke. "What in the name of the gods is wrong with you, Arianne?" he asked his sister.

"This doesn't concern you, Quentyn," Nymeria told her cousin.

He looked at her. "Actually, it doesn't concern you, Nym, or your sisters. Go back to the feast." She was indignant and raised her hand to her whip. He didn't back down from it, instead choosing to lock his gaze with her. "Obara, Tyene, stay right where you are," he said without looking at them as they tried to get behind him. The wolves followed their movements with bared teeth.

"All of you bastards leave now," Prince Viserys ordered, enforcing what Quentyn had said. The Sand Snakes did not budge until they glanced at Arianne. She gestured for them to go. It would end sooner this way.

Obara frowned slightly but Tyene and Nymeria understood. They left, going back to the feast. Nymeria pushed back Mya as she passed. Arianne watched with approval. The Usurper's bastard waited before going back to the feast herself. Jon Snow was about to leave when the prince spoke again. "Not you, Jon."

"Arianne," Quentyn said, getting her attention. "I have never been more ashamed to be a Martell before now. What were you thinking?" he demanded.

She opened her mouth but Prince Viserys spoke. "I can tell you what she was thinking. She was thinking that if she scared Sansa, she would get some satisfaction for my refusal. Never mind what would come next."

She glared at him. "Why should it matter to you?" she demanded. "What could you possibly see in that inept little—?"

His look darkened and grew dangerous. "Finish that sentence and I will forget that you are the heir to Dorne," he warned, his voice dropping into a snarl. "You wouldn't want that, _Princess_."

She actually felt a trickle of fear travel down the back of her neck. He looked dangerous at that moment. Not the dangerous that would make him seem attractive but the kind that made him seem like he would gladly kill her. But then Sansa tightened her hand against his and leaned closer to him. "Viserys, please," she told him.

His look vanished as he looked at her. It was something that surprised Arianne. She had thought that he would've gone through with his threat and no one would've stopped him. But the little girl had stopped him before he could've done anything. "Perhaps," Jon Snow said, finally speaking, "it would be for the best that we never talk about what happened here tonight. Nothing good would come of it."

"Yes, that would be for the best," Quentyn agreed. "Wouldn't you say, Arianne?"

"As you say," she said to her little brother. She didn't bother to argue because she didn't see the point anymore. She had gotten her point across to the little twit. The prince saw the look she was giving the redhead and glared darkly again at her. But instead of saying anything, he just turned and left with her, going back to the feast. Quentyn left as well, going back to the godswood.

The Princess of Dorne realized instantly that she was alone with Jon Snow. She turned to look at him with a flirtatious smile. But the smile froze on her face when she looked at him. It wasn't the fact that the wolves stood between them like a living shield and were eyeing her like she was an enemy. No, it was because of how Jon Snow stared at her.

His grey eyes were like steel and they radiated disdain and disappointment. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. It was all said in his eyes and how he managed to keep himself away from her without moving. In that moment, she saw the man that he would grow to be and saw how much of a Stark he looked to be, even if he was the bastard son. Seeing such a sight should've lit a hunger for him in her. Instead, all she felt was a cold wind against her skin. But she would not show him it. She was a Martell. A Martell never bowed, bent, or broke.

He turned around and left her standing there on the path, the wolves following him. She watched him go, not saying a word because of her family's words. But even so, as she watched his back fade into darkness, she could not help but feel that he had lost some respect to her and that she had lost a great advantage in the game.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

And now the reason why Cersei kissed Jon Snow has been revealed. Of course, some of you have already figured that out and to that, I say congrats. Harrenhal was so focused on Lyanna and Rhaegar, no one else really got attention. All you would get after that would be rumors passed around.

Having Stannis rebuke Renly for having a tourney would kinda like having a teenager throw a party only to have their parents get back from their trip early. Stannis, being the man that he is, would have no problems with chewing his little brother out in front of everyone he had invited for the tourney. However, being the man that he is, he would not say that the winnings wouldn't be recognized.

In regards to Arianne's little scaring move with Sansa, it is because that she is most like her uncle. They are both hot-headed and if they don't think it through, it will get them into trouble. That being said, I would like to think that if Quentyn stayed alive, like in this story, he would be more like Doran. We have yet to see Doran actually angry but I get the feeling that is something we do not want to see, at all. By the way, if you're wondering why Quentyn is acting a bit out of character, let's just say he's starting to come out of that shell.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 20: Catelyn

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

Something had happened the previous night. Catelyn Stark did not know what it was but what she did know was whatever had happened, it was enough to sour relationships between the lords of the North and the Dornish lords. The previous day, she had the Pack be friendly with both men and women of Dorne, the latter being particularly paid attention to (although she was certain that untoward was happening). But now, it was like those good relations had never existed. Every time she had come across one of her husband's bannermen and one of the Dornish in the same area, the former would blatantly ignore the latter.

She went down a corridor, passing portraits of her ancestors. She had left Rickon and Bran in their lessons and now she was looking for her youngest daughter. She had heard about what Arya had been doing with that woman from the Stormlands. Quite frankly, Catelyn could not believe that it was kept from her. Now she was on her way to the grounds around the field to talk to this Brienne of Tarth.

But as she passed a door, she heard voices inside, of which one was Ashara Dayne. The other voices sounded like they belong to the young ladies here in Riverrun. She also thought she heard Princess Rhaenys. But it was the lady Dayne that made her stopped. "Come now, Lady Dayne," she heard Princess Arianne say, "Tell us what to do in regards to Jon Dualfang."

As soon as she heard the bastard's name, she both went still and got closer to the door. If they were speaking of the bastard, it could not be good. "Dualfang?" repeated Lady Dayne. "Where on earth did he get such a name?"

"My brother," Princess Rhaenys answered.

"That does sound like him."

"Come now, tell us already," said Tya Lannister. "What must we do to win him over?"

At first Catelyn did not understand what it was they were saying. But then she did. _"They're playing the Women's game for Jon Snow."_ Now it wasn't that she had been ignorant of the game. It was just that since she had been betrothed to Brandon Stark she had no interest in playing it. That had been Lysa.

"Well, for one thing," Ashara began, "Abandon all you think about what you need to do charm a man. It will not work on a Stark."

She grew angry at those words. Jon Snow was a bastard, not a Stark. He was no child that came from her womb. "But he's not a Stark," one of the girls from the Reach protested. "He's a bastard."

She was glad to hear those words from a proper lady. But then Ashara spoke again. "He has the blood of the Starks running through him. It's enough to make him a Stark even if he's a bastard. You must remember that."

"So what must we do?" Princess Rhaenys asked.

"Do not be courteous, be honest. Do not be coy, be blunt. Do not seduce, be straight forward."

"So take the fun out of the entirety of this game?" one of the ladies asked. Catelyn could not be sure but the drawl the voice made sounded like it was from Dorne.

"If you think that, my lady, than I must think you haven't tried hard enough to win his approval." Lady Dayne's voice wasn't acidic as she spoke but it wasn't pleasant either. It was barbed. "And another thing: do not make fun of his honor, his house, and because of what he is, his bastardy."

"Why should he care about that?" that same drawling voice asked again, but this time more subdued.

"He is not of Dorne. Others will look at him and only see his name."

" _As they should,"_ thought Catelyn. Everyone knows that bastards were born on the wrong side of the sheets. They would always want they cannot have and that usually included their trueborn siblings' inheritance.

"Why are we even playing for him to begin with?" asked another lady, out of her sight. "His trueborn brother actually seems charming and able to hold a conversation. He's also the heir to Winterfell." There was a general murmur of agreement between the ladies.

But then Lady Ashara spoke again. "So you think that Robb Stark would be better for this game instead of Jon Snow?" she asked. She kept on talking. "You must be rather new to the Woman's game, my lady. It is not the charismatic Stark you want to play for, it is the quiet one. They might not have so much of the wolf's blood as others, but they have hidden depths to them."

"And how would you know that, my lady?"

"Experience and having won a game of my own, for Lord Stark," she answered with a confidence that did not belong to her.

Catelyn had heard enough. She reached out to the door and knocked obviously loud on it. "Princess Rhaenys?" she called out. "It is Lady Catelyn. I'm looking for my daughters. May I come in?"

There was a pause on the other side of the door. "Please enter, Lady Stark," the princess called back.

She opened the door and walked in, seeing many ladies sitting around Lady Dayne. "Forgive me," she apologized. "If I have interrupted something, I can leave."

"It's quite alright, Lady Stark," Ashara said to her, standing up from her seat and facing her. "Our talk is just about done."

"Your daughters aren't here," Princess Arianne told her shortly.

Her rudeness might've been upsetting if Catelyn didn't already know about the hostilities between her husband's lords and the Dornish Princess's. "I thank you, your Highness. I will look for them."

She was about to leave the room when Ashara spoke. "How is your husband, Lady Stark?" The attention in the room turned to them both. It was no secret what their relationship, or lack of, was like.

"He is well," she replied. "He rules with a firm and fair hand."

"And a profitable one as well," she replied. "Please give him my thanks and the thanks of Dorne for trading ice with us. It has provided many a cooled drink for us."

She did not say anything about it right away. When her husband had talked to Lord Manderly about trading ice to southern lands, she did not understand why he would do such a thing. The ice would melt and would not be of any use to anyone. But then the southern countries paid good gold for the ice and trade flowed through the North. That had been merely five years after Robb had been born. While she carried Bran in her womb, the Wolf Pond had been discovered, others were discovered, and the North could deal in precious gems as well.

"I will do that," she finally told Lady Dayne.

"I have heard, my lady, your firstborn son plans to enter the joust."

"That he has done. Robb has a talent for the lance. I am sure that he will progress far in the joust." She couldn't help but have a hint of pride in her voice as she spoke of her son. She might be worried that he was jousting, but she was still proud.

"Far enough to win it?" asked the Dornish woman, curiosity coloring her voice. "Would you know who he would crown his Queen of Love and Beauty if he won?"

She gave her a full look in the eyes. They were different, she knew that. But she knew who she was. "If he has someone in mind, he has not told me who it is."

"I see." A small mysterious smile played on her lips. "It's a shame that this tourney will not have the brawl, wouldn't you agree, my lady?"

She didn't say anything, not before of the ladies from the Westerlands, most likely a Lannister going by her hair and eyes, asked, "The brawl? What is that?"

"It's an old contest of the First Men, still held true in the North," she explained, her eyes never leaving Catelyn's. "The contestants would fight with their bodies, no weapons except their fists and feet."

"That sounds utterly barbaric," one lady from the Vale declared.

But she wasn't done. "Most of the men I watched fight the brawl chose to do it with no tunic or jerkin on." She left that thought hang in the air.

Catelyn could the image dawning on the faces of the ladies there. "This is hardly a subject to discuss, Lady Dayne."

She looked a little confused at those words. It was something that Catelyn knew was faked. "Why would you say that, my lady? After all, your lord husband won that brawl. I dare say that he was the perfect embodiment of the direwolf that day."

She remembered. She remembered her Ned standing victorious amongst the fallen, his chest sleek and shining with sweat. He was bruised and beaten, true. But they had seemed like well-earned. She hadn't thought of him much then but she could still see how the other ladies viewed him like they had just seen the Warrior walk amongst them. But her husband wasn't in their thoughts then. They were thinking of the bastard. "If you'll excuse me, my ladies, I will take my leave."

She left the room and the mother of her husband's bastards behind. But even when she was in the hallway, Lady Ashara wasn't far behind her. "Lady Catelyn, please wait," she called out to her.

Despite how much she wanted to keep walking, her courtesies had her stopping and turning back. "Yes?"

"Before we all leave Riverrun, I would like to have a chance to talk to you. In regards…in regards to Harrenhal," she explained.

"There is not to talk about in regards to Harrenhal, my lady," Catelyn replied. "What happened has happened."

"Yes, but I still owe you an explanation."

"…Very well," she conceded. If it was her just talking about how she danced with Ned, there was nothing to be concerned. "I will let you know if I have some time available."

The Dornishwoman smiled in relief. "Thank you." She went back the way she came and Catelyn continued down the hallway. She had to find Arya and her "teacher."

* * *

As the crowds began to settle at the sound of the trumpets, Catelyn knew that the joust was about to begin. She sat in the stands that were allocated for House Stark. Since they were married to House Tully, the two houses shared the stands. She sat next to Arya and Sansa but Brienne of Tarth to her left. She had found the woman instructing her daughter in how to properly hold a sword.

As soon as she had been seen, the training had stopped. She had sent Arya to find her brothers and she was left alone with Brienne. The conversation that had followed had not been one she had been expecting. The warrior maid was highborn, that much was obvious. But it did not occur to Catelyn was that she was the daughter of Selwyn Tarth himself. When she had admitted it, the girl (for it was a little hard to think of her as a woman, even if she towered over her) almost seemed embarrassed by it.

The joust started with five tilts apiece. She did not see many Northern heraldries amongst the heraldries that proclaimed who were jousting. The rest were of the south but surprisingly enough, the Targaryen dragon was not amongst them. It seemed that King Rhaegar or Prince Aegon would not joust. But what she could see was the direwolf amongst them. She had not wanted Robb to join the joust, thinking that he was too young. But he had wanted to try and earn his place.

There he was, at the farthest tilt away from them, facing against a knight of House Florent. His armor might've seen plain and drab to the others in the yard but she knew that it would protect him. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she watched Robb urge his horse into a charge, aiming his lance so that it would strike true. It did and the Florent knight crashed to the ground. The people either clapped politely or were focused on the other jousts.

As soon as he had reined in his horse, she watched Robb climb down from his horse and walked to his fallen opponent, holding out his hand to him. It earned him a louder round of clapping and nods of approval from the knights not participating. "Your son jousts well, my lady," Brienne told her respectfully, "And he acted with distinguished honor."

"Yes, that he has," she answered. She watched the Florent take the hand and Robb pulling him back to his feet. He might not have had the title of a proper knight, but she knew her son could act like one. _"Truly, he is of the North. He is his father's son."_

Even though she thought that with pride, her eyes could not help but search for Jon Snow, trying to find his heraldry amongst the others. He would most likely use the reverse of the Stark colors, a white direwolf on a field of grey, but she did not see it. A quick look around the crowds told her that he wasn't actually there. "Sansa, Arya, where are your half-brother and sister?"

Both of her daughters shared a quick look before looking back at her. "Jon's not here," Arya told her. "But Jocelyn is sitting with the princess." She pointed to the royal stand. Jocelyn Sand was sitting beside Princess Rhaenys with Mya Storm standing behind them both.

The sight of her husband's bastard daughter reminded her of her mother. But she banished those thoughts. Jocelyn was not there to curry favor with the royal family. She was just there to sit with her friend. Relations between the Iron Throne and the North had been tense. While she thought that mending those relations would be a good thing, she did not think that they needed to go further than favor needed to be curried.

Another roar of the crowd brought her attention back to the tiltyard. Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers, had just knocked his opponent off his horse. The victorious lad raised his lance high and the crowd roared again. "He's so handsome," Sansa said with a sigh that almost wistful.

Arya gave her a look. "You're betrothed to Viserys," she reminded her sister with a nudge of her elbow. Catelyn's youngest had never called the prince by his proper title, only by his name. She saw him as another brother.

"I know that."

"Then shouldn't keep your eyes on him and only him? After all, that's what a proper lady should behave, am I wrong?" she asked with a mischievous grin.

"I said I know that!" Sansa snapped, trying to keep her voice from being high. Arya turned back to the joust and kept cheering for Robb.

"Arya," Catelyn said to her daughter. "Where is he?"

She looked back. "He didn't tell me. He just said that he wouldn't be watching the joust. I think that maybe he's with his friends."

She had noticed that the bastard had been amongst several people from different parts of the Seven Kingdoms. She had thought nothing of it but now she wonder what it was they did. Why would they miss the joust? It was always the highlight of any tourney. She looked at the shields that marked who was jousting. Even as some were being taking away, she saw no heraldry that belonged to any of the men Jon Snow had been talking with. But since she had only seen so few of them, she didn't know if there were more.

Still, as she took notice of the noble ladies trying to subtly look around the stands for him, perhaps it was best that he wasn't here. They were here for the tourney, not for Jon Snow. Yet even as she silently declared those words to be true, she thought she could hear Jocelyn Sand's mother laughing. But when she looked, Lady Ashara wasn't laughing.

The joust continued and Catelyn began to notice something. Whenever a Northman and a Dornishman came to meet each other, rare in that first day, the Northmen would try to strike down the Dornishmen with a viciousness that was as cold as it was brutal. The Dornishmen returned the favor. Between the two groups were more men carried off the field groaning and moaning pain. Catelyn noticed that the lady Brienne was frowning. "What has your attention?" she asked.

Arya's teacher looked surprised. Perhaps she didn't expect to be spoken to. "Forgive me, my lady," she said.

"You have nothing to apologize for," she replied. "Tell me, what has your attention."

"The Northerners and the Dornishmen, the way they joust against each other, it's brutal. It's too brutal for the tiltyard. It's almost as if…" She struggled to find the words that properly said what she meant.

But Catelyn knew what she was trying to say. "It's almost as if they are fighting a war and not just jousting."

"Yes, my lady. I do not understand. I had thought I saw the Northerners and Dornish get along well."

"I have witness the same thing myself."

She looked at her, bright blue eyes inquisitive. "Do you know what had changed?"

"I do not."

She turned her head back to the tiltyards. "Then I shall have to be careful when I go to the melee."

Catelyn was surprised by her words. "You plan to enter the melee?"

She nodded. "I do, my lady. I came here to test my sword arm against others. I wish to know how my skill would fare against others."

"But you are a lady. The melee is not a place for a lady."

"I can be barely called a lady. I am no great beauty and a lady's skills do not suit well. I sing horribly, my music teacher threw his hands in disgust at my attempts, what I sew could not be suited even for a rat, and all suitors that I've had would sooner laugh at me than wed me. In truth, armor and weapons feel more comfortable on me."

The way she talked about herself, self-deprecating and willing to bring herself lower, it did sit right with Catelyn. But she could see the truth in her words. "And if you were to go up against one of the Kingsguard?" she asked, knowing the majority of the Kingsguard would be fighting in the melee.

"I've already bested Ser Jaime, so I know I can hold my own against one," she replied. "And if I am to be truthful, Lady Catelyn, I would like to see how I fare against the others."

"You'll beat them!" Arya said confidently. "I know you will." She smiled brightly at her teacher.

Brienne smiled gladly back. "Thank you, Arya."

In that moment, Catelyn saw that her daughter and the maid of Tarth were similar. But still, she wanted to know why Arya was being trained to be a knight instead of a warrior. "Why are training Arya, Brienne?"

She didn't answer right away, choosing instead to watch the joust. It was beginning to die down. The leading men had gone off the field, leaving those who had been defeated to joust to define their place in the rankings. Robb had left the yard, along with the other victors. "For the same reason my father finally taught me," she said. "He said to me that if I was going to keep fighting, I may as well do it right." She looked at her. "Your daughter will want to keep fighting, my lady. Instead of trying to drive her away from it, it would be best to make sure that she is proficient in it."

Strange as it was, those words made sense to Catelyn. She didn't want Arya to fight, but perhaps if she learned how to wield a weapon, she would eventually leave them behind. "Thank you," she told her before shifting her gaze to Arya. "We will talk later."

"Yes, Mother," she replied, her eyes downcast. She must think that talk would make her stop learning from Brienne.

"Oh, Mya," Sansa said in half surprise.

Catelyn turned her head and saw the bastard standing at the entrance of their stand. "My ladies Stark and Tarth," she said, "the princess Rhaenys has decided to retire from the joust. She invites you to walk back to the castle."

Both of her daughters looked to her, one expectant and one irritated. "We accept," she said to the bastard.

She inclined her head. "If you would follow me?" she asked, turning around and walking off the stand. They all stood and followed. Catelyn gave word to Jory to inform Robb of where she and her daughters had gone if he asked.

Osha had been watching the joust next to the stand by Jory. As they left, so did she. "So that's jousting then, huh?" she asked bluntly.

"Yes, Osha, it was," Catelyn answered. "What did you think of it?" This would be the wilding's first time actually seeing such sport.

"Looked likes boys smashing sticks against each other while riding horses," she said back. "Sounds about the foolish thing I've ever heard, until I thought of something more foolish."

"What would that be?"

"Imagining giants doing the same thing with whole trees on the backs of mammoths," she answered with a grin. "I saw it in my head, clear as the Wall, and I damn near laughed out loud." Both Sansa and Arya giggled too. Catelyn didn't see the humor of it but she could see the picture.

The princess waited on the path to the castle with Jocelyn Sand. Once the necessary courtesies, they walked towards the castle. "Lady Catelyn, was Jon Snow sitting with you?" the princess asked her. "I did not see him."

"He wasn't there," she replied shortly. That was all she would say about it.

"I see." There was a faint note of disappointment in her voice but that was all. But as they reached the castle gate, the bastard himself appeared, holding a fat boy up with one arm and a grey-haired squire in the other. Prince Quentyn Martell held the other side of the fat boy, who she recognized as Samwell Tarly when she saw huntsman on his jerkin. From behind them appeared Tommen Lannister and the Stone Crows boy who was his back brother, holding each other up. Every one of them was bruised and beaten. Tarly even had a bloodied nose.

"Quentyn!" shouted the princess, going to his side and grabbing his free arm.

"Rhae," he said. His voice was thick with pain.

"Jon, what happened?" Arya exclaimed, running up to her half-brother. She reached out to grab hold of him, only to stop when she realized how beaten he was.

"I'm not sure," he answered. "I didn't see who it was. The fight had already started when I reached it with Ned and Tommen."

"Redwyne…twins," Samwell Tarly spoke. Like the prince, his voice was thick with pain and there were tears in his eyes. "They…tried to ambush me…Edd saw…Quentyn too."

Catelyn took charge then and there. "Go to the maester," she ordered all of them, never once looking Jon Snow in the eyes.

"I will go with them," Jocelyn Sand declared, moving forward.

"No, Joce, I will go," Princess Rhaenys said, perhaps a little too quickly. "They attacked my cousin. I want to hear this event with my own two ears. Mya, please stay with the Starks."

Both she and Catelyn looked at her as she held her cousin's arm. There was truth to her words but it wasn't hard to guess that there was something else there too. "As you say, your Highness," Catelyn finally said. She watched silently as they left, her eyes focusing on the princess and Jon Snow. She wondered if he was aware of the game that was being played. She decided that he wasn't. In that aspect, he was too much like her husband.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

One of the reviewers had asked me to stop focusing on character progression and get the story rolling. I've found that character progression _is_ what rolls the story. If the story rolls on without any character progression, it means flat characters and not a very good story at that. It's why I can't really read any story that bashes characters because the writer didn't like them.

That being said, I'm also beginning to appreciate why it's taking Mr. Martin's so long to write the next book. Sometimes it's difficult to write what should come next. I started this story with a simple idea but it's gotten a lot more than that. It might also because that out of the three stories I'm writing, this one is the casual one and comes after writing the other two.

I think bare-fist fighting would be a Northern tradition. However, I will admit that I didn't come with the idea first. That belongs with CaekDaemon and his story _The Many Sons of Winter_ on Archive of Our Own (which is a good read, I hope he gets back to it). The selling of ice also came from another writer, RemoWilliams and his story _And, The Giant Awoke_ (another good one and funny as hell to read too), but it does makes sense when you think about it.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 21: Rhaenys

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

While the maester tended to the more injured of the group (especially the children), Rhaenys was left outside with Jon Snow. They did not sit together, but on opposite sides of the door to the maester's chambers. It had been something he had insisted on, all the while eyeing Jon Snow like he was evil and just hiding it.

Jon Snow did not say anything as they waited. He just sat there on the bench, leaning against the wall. Rhaenys could not see how he would be able to do it. Her back was straight, just like her lessons had taught her to do. She could barely feel the wall but what she did feel felt rather chilly and rough, nothing like the walls in the Red Keep.

But then he would never have felt the stones of the Red Keep. He had only lived in Winterfell. She looked at him again. He did not look at her, not even to peek a look when he thought that she wasn't looking. It was irritating. She wondered if she was going to have to act coy to get attention. Lady Dayne's words came back to her. She was to forget all that she knew when it came to seducing a man. She was going to have to be honest.

It was a concept that actually made her nervous. But still, she pressed forward. "Are you well?" she asked him, breaking the silence between them.

"I am," he answered. He didn't look her way when he spoke, keeping his eyes forward.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, your Highness. The maester was right to take in the others first."

"And you don't know who it was."

He shook his head. "The fight had already started. I simply joined the fight."

"With two boys," she added.

"They followed. I did not tell them to but they did," was all he said. But he said with a hint of pride in his voice.

It irritated her a little bit. "And they fought," she said to him, "Two little boys fighting against men. That is not right."

"They were not told to fight," he told her. "But they did. Tommen was ferocious." He sound a little surprised as he said those words but it was still proud.

"Did your wolf attack as well?" If it had, it was possible the other party would try to use that against him, claiming it to be a vicious animal.

But Jon Dualfang shook his head. "No, Ghost did not attack them."

She was a little surprised at that. "He didn't? I would have thought that the sight of his master being attacked would have roused him to action."

"He would have, if it had become serious and deadly."

"You sound so sure."

He finally looked at her. "When they were found as pups, Lord Stark told each of us that it would be to us to raise them, feed them, and train them. They would not attack anyone needlessly. We have trained them to do that. It is because of that I know Ghost did not join the fight, not unless he knew that my life was in danger."

She idly wondered for a moment if she had a dragon if it would act in the same way. She didn't pay much attention to it. The dragons had long since died out. There were much more important things to be concerned about. "You were not at the joust," she said to him. "It was disappointing not to see you compete." She hadn't been alone in that state of mind. The other ladies playing the game had looked just disappointed and irritated about his not being there too.

"I'm not one for the lance," he told her. "That is more for Robb."

It was simplistic the way he said it. But she didn't see it like that. Even if he didn't have as much skill in the joust as his trueborn sibling, it shouldn't have meant it he didn't join. She stopped herself before she went too far. She had to keep it simple. "Then you shall be pleased to know that he has advanced to the next round of the joust."

A small smile tugged at his lips. "That's good to hear. He must be pleased."

"He was." But she didn't care about what Robb Stark felt. "Will you attend to the archery contest this afternoon?"

"No, that would be Theon's skill." He frowned. "I hold hope that one of the Pack, perhaps Morgan, will finally be able to beat him. But it's not a high hope."

"You don't have confidence in your own friends?"

"When it comes to wielding a bow with a quiver full of arrow, in Winterfell Theon Greyjoy is the best." He fell silent for a moment. "Don't tell him I said this, but he might also be the best at this tourney."

She couldn't help but giggle at his words. It was a little amusing to see him grudgingly admit to someone else's skill. He fell silent once more and the giggles died away in her throat. "I am not laughing at you, Jon Snow," she assured. "It's just that I have never been aware of someone freely admitting that another is better at something than they are."

"It's the truth," he told her bluntly.

And that was the crux of it. She had grown up in King's Landing. It was rare to hear the truth from a person outside of the family. "Will you be joining the singing contest this night?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "No, I won't be."

That was surprising. She remembered his singing, how the words had pressed against her skin like the trailing fingers of a lover, making her shiver with each touch. She found herself lost in the song and she knew that if she had been caught, she wouldn't have resisted. But what he was saying now? She hadn't expected it. "Why are you not? Every bard who is here will be joining," she told him. "I believe that my father might even sing against the winner."

"In that case, I really should not be a part of it." He made it sound like it was a jape but there was a slight bitterness to it. "After all, what would a bastard with only a voice be against the king who is known for his voice and his lyre?"

She looked at him and again, he did not look at her in return. She had never met someone who was adamant in refusing the chance to take glory in victory. "So you will not even try?"

"Your Highness, I cannot play an instrument. The singing contest requires the participants to be able to both play an instrument and sing."

"Where does it say that?" she demanded.

"It is the rules."

"It is ridiculous."

"I did not make them."

The door opened and the maester stepped out. They both stood up but Rhaenys was the one who spoke. "How are they, Maester Vyman?"

"They are fine," he answered. "No bones were broken. The Tarly boy lost some blood but not enough to be life-endangering. They have some bandages but that is the most of it."

"May I speak to my cousin then?"

"You may."

She stood up and so did Jon Snow. But while she went for the door, he walked away. "Where are you going?" she asked him.

He stopped and looked back. "They are well. I have no business here."

"You are hurt yourself."

"I'll be fine."

She could see the injuries he had. To hear him dismiss it made her angry. "You are not fine, Jon Snow. You are injured."

"They are minor. The maester has attended to the ones who needed tending to. Good day to you, Princess."

She looked to the maester but saw his eyes were cool. She knew just from that look that he would not give the same treatment he had given the others to Jon Snow, all because he was a bastard. No, she realized that it was more than that. He wasn't any bastard. He was the bastard of Lord Stark and this was Lady Stark's home. They were probably well-aware of what she felt when it came to him and chose to respond as such.

She opened her mouth to say something but he was already gone from sight. She closed the mouth and glared somewhat at the corridor he had vanished into. He had a tendency to do that, it seemed. "You wished to see your cousin, Princess?" the maester asked her.

She turned and looked at him, giving him the same cool look that he had. "Yes, I would." She brushed past him without another word spoken.

* * *

She had gotten the full story from Quentyn. Once she had, she was furious. The Redwyne twins had never a fond thing for her to think on but now, they were quickly becoming undesirable. She was going to go straight to her parents, tell them the story of they had attacked Samwell Tarly and in the process harmed her cousin, and demand that they leave.

But strangely enough, both Quentyn and Samwell did not want her to do that. Quentyn, in his quiet voice that seemed to be losing its nervousness, told her that to do so would cause strife amongst the nobles at the tourney. He also made mention that Aegon would probably try to use it to get rid of Margaery and the rest of the Tyrells.

When she was pleaded to by Samwell Tarly not to tell the king, she demanded why he would want that. After all, he had been the one who had been attacked. He told her that it would get back to his father and it would make him even more displeased with him. She had met Randyll Tarly before. She had thought his gruff nature was just because he was a man for the battlefield, not the court. But seeing his son, she grew an uncertain feeling that their relationship was not amicable. So she did as she was asked and held her tongue.

Now, she sat in the stands for the archery contest and her mouth was agape, showing her tongue to anyone who would be bothered to look her way. Her cousin had entered the contest and had progressed to the last round, just like she had expected Sarella to do. She was a natural with a bow. But in spite of what she had been told, Theon Greyjoy was able to hold his own against her. Where other men had looked indignant and enraged that they had lost to a girl (and a Dornish bastard at that), the heir to the Iron Islands had not reacted. He had stood his ground, his face calm.

Now, at the final round, the two of them stood waiting. The only person who stood with them was an archer from the Dornish Marches. They waited with their bows at their sides, arrows in their hands. Everyone in the stands waited with anticipation. "Nock your arrows!" the herald commanded and they did. "Raise your bows and draw!"

Sarella looked determined as she aimed her arrow. At the call, she released the string and the arrow flew at the target. It struck plum in the center, like Rhaenys knew that it would. Sarella smiled in victory as she looked at the marcher's arrow and saw that it was just off-center. But then the smile faded away as she saw that Theon's arrow had struck center, just like hers.

Applause rang out in the yard as the marcher left. The ironmen seemed to be a bit less enthusiastic about it than Rhaenys would have thought them to be. Their reactions all seemed to be based on their captain, who just watched with a look of barely held interest. Rhaenys had met Asha Greyjoy and it seemed that she did not take any joy from things she could not insult or threaten.

The herald went to the targets and examined them closely. When he was done, he walked back and declared, "They have both struck center! Therefore, Theon Greyjoy and Sarella Sand will shoot again!"

This was something new for her cousin. Rhaenys knew that Sarella won every archery contest she had joined. "What do you think, Mya?" she asked her handmaiden sitting next to her but keeping her eyes on the field. "Do you think my cousin will win?"

Mya was silent for a moment, watching the field too. "Would you have me speak honestly, your Highness?" she asked in return, her finger idly tracing the bracer on her arm.

"Is there any other way of speaking?"

"Many."

That was true, she could admit to that. "Yes, I would like to hear your honest answer." The arrows were removed from the targets but the holes stayed.

She continued to watch as the contestants drew and nocked arrows again. "I think your cousin is going to have a challenge. And I think it might do her some good."

It was a good thing that the rest of her cousins were not sitting beside her. Arianne had left when she told her about Quentyn and Sarella's eldest sisters followed. The remaining snakes sat with their mother and father, in a different stand. The girls seemed to be trying to decide who to cheer for. They should cheer for their sister, as was right.

Theon and Sarella lifted their bows and fired again. The arrows again struck the center. So they fired again and again the arrows struck the same. "I do not think I have ever seen something like this," Rhaenys said in half-wonder.

But Mya was not of the same mind. "It is going to get boring." Other people in the stands were of the same mind, getting up to leave.

As the herald called them to nock their arrows, Theon looked up to the royal stand. "Your Grace!" he called out.

All eyes fell on him and then on Rhaenys' father. "Yes, Lord Theon?" the king replied.

He looked back to the targets. "This is getting nowhere," he proclaimed. "Everyone is getting bored, even me."

"Are you surrendering?" Sarella looked almost hopeful at that question.

But he just smiled instead. "If I did that, there is no doubt in my mind that my sister and her men would make me regret it, your Grace." Both Rhaenys and Mya looked to where the ironmen sat and saw that they would do just that. "No, I will not surrender. I just wish to offer something."

"What would that be?"

"That we change this into something more interesting." He looked back at the targets, the holes where their arrows had been obvious. "Neither of us will win this way. We must change it to determine the victor."

"Your idea is intriguing, Lord Greyjoy," King Rhaegar conceded. "How would you change it?"

His smile turned into a smirk. "We sit at the point where two rivers become one, your Grace. There is water a plenty for boats to sail on. We continue this contest on the water, firing our arrows from the boats."

Rhaenys took note of her cousin. She saw that Sarella's face had blanched. She had only fired her bow on solid ground, nothing else. Theon Greyjoy made it sound like he had the experience. She looked to her father. He looked like he was thinking on it. "Very well, my lord," he finally said. "We will accept your suggestion. But," he raised his hand and waved it at the setting sun, "on the morrow. The hour is growing late and now it is the time for stories and songs."

Theon said nothing back, only nodding his head in acknowledgement. The stands began to empty. He walked away, not to the ironmen but rather to the Pack. Soon, they had engulfed him and moved away from the grounds, heading to the castle like everyone else. Rhaenys went to her cousin. "You did well, Sarella."

"Not well enough," she replied, staring at the targets.

She looked too. The arrows were being removed. "You did not lose."

"I did not win either." She turned her head to look at where her competitor had vanished to.

Rhaenys followed her gaze. "Do you really think that he will be able to win against you?"

She snorted in derision. "Of course not," she declared.

"Then there is nothing to worry about." She snaked her arm around her shoulder. "Come. Put away your bow for now. My father is right. It's time to listen to the singers."

"And to mock the horrible ones," her Sand Snake cousin added.

She giggled a little. "Well, yes, there is that." Together, they walked over to her uncle.

"And what has you two smiling like this?" asked Oberyn as he met them with Ellaria and their children.

"Nothing much, uncle," Rhaenys told him. "Just thinking of what will happen tonight with the contest of singers."

He must've known what her smile truly meant because he started to smile the same way. "Ah, yes. It will truly be entertaining to watch men and women try and fail to sing before the crowds tonight. I would perform myself but I've been told that my songs are too precocious for tonight."

"Father, when has that ever stopped you before?" Sarella asked him, mockingly tilting her head like she didn't understand.

Ellaria laughed. "He can't refuse a command from his dear sister."

He held his hands in surrender. "Aye, it is a painful truth. But still, it will be amusing to watch the spectacle tonight." They started to leave the stands, only to stop when someone stood in their way. "Lord Stannis, what an unexpected pleasure," said Oberyn glibly. They started walk away, only to have their impeded by Lord Stannis.

Rhaenys could hear her handmaiden go still behind her. "My Lord Baratheon," she said to the man politely.

"Your Highness," he replied, choosing to look at her and no one else.

"Ah, Stannis Baratheon," her uncle said in a jovial manner that was thinly layered over a tone of mockery. "What is that the Lord of Storm's End requires of us?"

"Nothing from you, Prince Oberyn," he replied bluntly. His eyes fell on his niece. "Mya, you will follow me."

"And why would she do that?" the Red Viper asked before Mya took a single step.

He glared at Rhaenys' uncle. They could hear his teeth grinding. "It does not concern you."

"But it does me," Rhaenys spoke, getting his attention. "You are ordering my handmaiden away from me, Lord Stannis."

"Do you have need of her now?"

"No."

"Then she will come with me."

She was beginning to get angry with the man. How dare he order someone that was sworn to her services? Mya was hers, not his. "Lord Baratheon, she is my handmaiden. I will know what it is you need of her before she goes anywhere."

He looked as annoyed as she felt but she didn't care about that. "Your Highness," Mya said quietly behind her, a sharp jolt against her senses, bringing her out of the anger. "There is no need for you to be concerned. I'm sure that Lord Stannis has need of me for a reason." She stepped past her and went to her uncle, curtseying before him. "My lord, what is it you require of me?"

"My daughter has asked me a question that has a story to it. I wish to know everything about what happened before I give her an answer, from the both of you," he told her, speaking like a commander to his soldier.

She only bowed her head. "Of course, my lord," she told him. She looked back at Rhaenys. "Your Highness, will you be able to excuse me for an hour or so?"

As much as she wanted to say no, Rhaenys could see that Mya's mind was already made up. That was something that not many people knew about her handmaiden. If she chose to do something, she was going to do it.

* * *

Much like they had predicted, the contest during the feast was full of people who could not sing. They might thought they did but they either had too high of an opinion of themselves or couldn't hear themselves when they sang. Rhaenys knew how to hide a smile and not to laugh too loudly at the failures. The other people in the hall would be able to do that just fine.

But for those who could sing and stood to sing before others, that was where her attention was paid. Some didn't have much or were inexperienced. The singers that weren't either showed their skills for their voices confidently. Rhaenys listened to them all and applauded when they deserved. But even as she listened, her eyes found Jon Snow. He sat at the table full of Northerners, far back enough to disappear to the casual eye. He seemed to be doing what he had said to her. He would not join the competition. Whenever a singer was done and the next one came to face the people, he stayed put.

The singer who was currently trying to entertain the people finished and only received polite clapping for his song. His voice was only passable and there were only so many times Rhaenys could hear the Rains of Castamere. Someone from the Northern table stood and walked to the dais. Her eyes settled on the person and saw that it was Domeric Bolton. He held his harp in his hands in the way that showed he knew how to use it. "What song are you going to play for us, Lord Domeric?" the king asked him.

"An old one, your Grace," he replied. "One that comes with history tied to it."

"Many songs do."

"That is true. This song is about Symeon Star-Eyes." He looked to the people. "We have all heard songs Symeon Star-Eyes. Some have even claimed that he was a knight and possibly even a member of the Kingsguard. But the truth of this legendary warrior was that he was one of the First Men. During the Thousand Years War between the King of Winter and the Barrow King, Symeon served House Stark and fought beneath their banner. In his service, he forged a bond of companionship with a young warrior.

"When the men of the Barrow King had surrounded the Stark men, they took refuge in a forested hill. After a day full of fighting, they repelled the enemy but they were still surrounded. As night fell and both sides rested, the young warrior confessed to Star-Eyes that he was afraid to die, to not see his family or the girl that he loved again. When he finally fell asleep, Symeon and the other veteran warriors found a heart tree. There, Symeon offered a prayer to the old gods." He readied his fingers. "This is the prayer he gave."

He began strumming and the notes all but fell out from his harp. The music he played was different from the few Northern songs she had heard since coming to Riverrun. This wasn't loud and boisterous, nor was it low and seductive. This song was more melancholic and sad. It became even more obvious when he began to sing.

 _Gods to me  
Hear my prayer  
In my need  
You have always been there_

 _He is young  
He's afraid  
Let him rest  
Heaven blessed.  
Bring him home  
Bring him home  
Bring him home._

 _He's like the son I might have known  
If God had granted me a son.  
The summers die  
One by one  
How soon they fly  
On and on  
And I am old  
And will be gone._

 _Bring him peace  
Bring him joy  
He is young  
He is only a boy_

 _You can take  
You can give  
Let him be  
Let him live  
If I die, let me die  
Let him live  
Bring him home  
Bring him home  
Bring him home_.

As he ended the song, silence reigned in the hall. Rhaenys felt something wet on her cheeks and she quickly realized that it was tears. There were quite a few tears on the faces of people. She couldn't fault them for it. The song had moved her too. It was so sad and yet hopeful too. Even her father looked sad. Her mother had tears forming at the corner of her eyes. But she wiped them away and said, "You have a beautiful voice, Lord Domeric. I believe I can speak for us all when I say that you will continue in the competition."

Her decision broke the silence and the hall erupted with applause. The heir to House Bolton bowed his head in recognition to it all. "Thank you," he said as the applause died down.

As he started back to his seat, a voice shouted out, "What happened the next morning?"

He stopped to look. Rhaenys didn't know if he saw the person who spoke, but he answered all the same. "The two forces clashed once more. In that battle, a weak spot occurred in the Barrow King's lines. The Stark men took full advantage of it. They broke through the lines and escaped. But that escape only happened when Symeon and the other old men stood against the men of the Barrow King, holding them off and paying with their lives."

Cries and protests echoed in the hall. _"What's the point of complaining about it?"_ Rhaenys asked. The past was the past. There was nothing they could do to change it.

"And the warrior?" someone else called out.

Domeric Bolton replied, "He went back to his home, in Winterfell. In time, he took his father's throne and became the King of Winter. He turned the tide in the war but it was his son who ended it, slaying the last Barrow King and taking his daughter to wife."

Rhaenys did not know this. It was not something that her tutors and septas had taught her. Then again, they did not focus much on the North. As Domeric walked back to his seat, her eyes found Jon Snow again. He was talking to his half-brother and from the looks of it, the talk was not pleasant. Robb Stark seemed insistent but Jon's face remained stubborn and defiant. He shook his head repeatedly as his trueborn brother kept talking.

" _Does he want Jon to sing?"_ she wondered. She hoped that he would but it seemed that he would not move. His eyes would dart over to where Lady Catelyn sat. The Stark matriarch was not looking back but the way he moved his eyes at her made all clear to Rhaenys. It irritated her and made her angry. It seemed like the only way they would be able to get Jon Dualfang to do anything in this tourney was to get rid of Lady Stark. Of course, she knew that would be impossible. This was Lady Catelyn's birthplace. She had a better chance of kidnapping Jon then getting her out of the castle.

"What are you thinking, your Highness?" Mya asked from behind her.

She didn't look back at her handmaiden. "What do you mean by that, Mya?"

"You have your planning look on your face."

"I do not have a planning look."

"Princess, the last time I saw that look was the same time mischief usually comes in the Red Keep. For instances, that time those pies from the kitchen vanished with the blame somehow being pointed at the visiting Reach delegation."

She rolled her eyes. "Mya, I was eight."

"Your Grace!" someone called out. All eyes fell to her father. "Please, sing a song for us!"

Before anyone else could agree, he spoke, "I will save my songs for the end of this competition. You all know my skill with the harp. This is not my night to show it to you all. No, that is for the singers who have performed tonight. Now please, eat and enjoy yourselves. Let the judges decides who have won this round of singing."

He sat back down and the feast went on. Rhaenys found her eyes looking at Jon Snow. He was leaving the feast. She wondered why since it was so early. Then she saw the eldest Stark carrying the youngest and that the bastard followed. Robb Stark spoke insistently but she could no longer see Jon's expression. Within a minute, they were gone from her sight, lost in the smoke emitting from the fires.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

I don't know if an archery contest has ever been done out in water. I think it would add a bit of a challenge. Not only are the targets bobbing in the water, you also have to be sure of your balance on the boat (I say boat because shooting from dry land seems half-done), the effect of the wind on the water, just how fast its making the boat, and other such stuff. Of course, that was probably what Theon was thinking of when he suggested it.

One of the things I love about the vagueness of Westeros' history is that you can take it and make it your own. There a chapter for _The Ghost of the North_ where I could do the same thing. It would've been from Willas Tyrell's view when he was at the Wall serving. He met and talked with the Ghost and during the conversation the Ghost would reveal a shocking truth: _he_ was Garth Greenhand. All the supposed children of Garth would turn out to be orphans the Ghost took in and raised. House Gardener would only come to be because the first orphan he took would take control of the garden the Ghost had raised them in when he left, kicking the others out. The orphan would build a fortress around the garden to keep the others out and since the garden was on a hill, it was a high garden. You can guess what came from that.

There's was a bit more to the chapter, like the Ghost telling Willas the story to ease his mind about the Tyrells holding Highgarden and showing how history can be changed. But you get my point. The vagueness leaves a lot of room for interpretation.

And yes, that was Bring Him Home from _Les Miserable_. I found it to be apt song for the story. I will also admit to changing the first line. I did that because the last time I checked, the Old Gods weren't specifically gods of the air but of the earth. I had to find something that kept the flow of the song and that could work with what I was trying to do. That's not an easy thing to do when you're trying to keep it simple.

Also, on a side note, having now described the chapter of Willas, how many of you would like me to write it and post it to the story?

I'll see you all next chapter!


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 22: Bran

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

The morning had been for the joust and Bran had cheered wildly for Robb as he bested all challengers. He hadn't been the only who did it. The rest of the Pack and family did too. It was like his brother could not be bested with the lance. Bran knew with a certainty that he would reach the finals and win the joust.

But that was for later. Now, they were watching Theon take part of the archery competition. This wasn't like any archery competition he had seen before. He watched the targets bob up and down in the river's current. He had been told that they were tied so that they would stay in place, just like the boats currently were. Theon had walked onto the boat cockily and that cockiness stayed with him as he waited. The Dornish bastard didn't look as confident.

Thinking of her made him think of his brother Jon. He wasn't sitting with the family in their stand. He was closer to the river, amongst his own friends. Seeing him standing there, outside of the family and the Pack, it felt like they were losing him. He didn't like that. Jon was family. Despite what he might've think, Bran thought he was part of the Pack. But now it seemed like he had his own Pack.

"Why is Jon down there?" Rickon asked, looking under the railing, his arms hanging on to it.

"Because he is," he told his little brother.

"Why?"

"Because he is," he repeated. He saw the two boys who followed Jon around standing beside him now. Seeing them there made him feel jealous.

"Viserys," Sansa said from behind him, in surprise. Both he and Rickon turned around and saw their foster brother standing there, along with the most beautiful girl Bran had ever seen. He knew that it was the Princess Daenerys, but he never assumed that he would be so close to see her.

"Lady Stark," Viserys said to Mother. "Might I introduce you to my sister?"

Mother rose to meet her, but the princess breezed past her brother to meet her. "It is good to meet you finally, my lady. And it is nice to see the rest of the wolves too," she said, smiling at them all. "The lady would have loved to meet you all."

"Dany," her brother said warningly.

But it was too late. "What lady?" Rickon asked.

Daenerys opened her mouth but Viserys put his hand on her shoulder. "My sister seems to have seen spirits around the Red Keep," he told them. "One of them is someone she claims walks with ghostly wolves by her side."

"She wears a hood to try to hide her face," she added before he could stop her. "I've never been able to see it but I have seen her eyes. They are grey."

Bran looked at Arya and she noticed him. "What are you looking at?" she demanded.

He felt foolish. The princess was talking about their Aunt Lyanna, not Arya. It should have been obvious. "Nothing," he told her.

She didn't look like she believed him. "Stupid," she said. The princess giggled and his cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"May we sit?" Viserys asked Mother.

She nodded. "Of course, you and your sister are always welcome amongst us." They sat down beside her. Rickon ran up to the princess. She smiled down at him and took him into her lab. For a moment, Bran hated his baby brother.

Mother looked down at the stand's steps. "Where is your sworn shield, your Highness?"

"Sandor's guarding Mother," the princess said, pointing at the royal stand. Bran looked and saw a tall man behind Queen Rhaella. He was the only one of the knights there that didn't wear a white cape. It didn't seem right.

"How did that man like that become the queen's sworn shield?" Sansa asked. She was staring at the royal stand with a scared look.

But the princess didn't look troubled. "He found me when I managed to get lost in Lannisport and brought me back to Mother. When he won the melee, he offered his sword to her and she said yes."

The herald banged his staff against a wooden post. "The archery finals are about to begin!" he called out in his loud voice. "Each contestant will have three arrows to draw and shoot. The one who has the closest amount to the center of the target will win. They will alternate shots." He looked at the men standing by the boats. "Set them off."

The men quickly undid the knots and the boats drifted into the river. Bran waited with anticipation. He had never seen anything like this before. What would it be like? He wanted to see. But Theon didn't nock his arrow. He looked over at Sarella Sand and smiled at her. Bran knew that smile was his jesting one. "Go ahead," he told her. "You can fire first."

She nocked her first arrow to her goldenheart bow and aimed at the target. The point bobbed in the air as she held the string taunt. When she did fire, the arrow struck on the outer ring. She scowled. Bran knew that she had hit, but it was barely good. She looked at him. But he did nothing. "Go on," she said to him

But he said. "You can go again."

" _What?"_ Bran thought in surprise. He hadn't expected that. It was expected for Theon to take his shot now.

Sarella Sand didn't move. "Lord Greyjoy!" the herald shouted, "Take your shot!"

"She can fire again," he said. "I will wait."

"Are you surrendering your shot, my lord?"

"No. She can fire again." He looked cocky, like he knew what the outcome would be.

The herald looked confused. He looked at the royal stand, at the king. "I will allow it," King Rhaegar proclaimed.

"Oh," Princess Daenerys said, "Oh dear."

Bran looked at her. She looked worried and that worried him. "What's wrong, your Highness?" he asked her.

"Lord Greyjoy is going to be quite nasty."

The herald shouted, "Lady Sand may take her second shot!" Bran took his attention back to the river. The Dornishwoman nocked her second arrow and drew again. She fired and the arrow struck closer to the target, in the inner ring. The distance between the two arrows was obvious.

She looked at Theon but he just kept smiling. "No need for you to stop now. Go on. Fire your last arrow."

"Lord Greyjoy!" the herald said. He sounded completely annoyed and Bran found it a bit funny. He giggled and Rickon did too.

"I will take it!" Sarella told the man. She nocked her last arrow, drew it, and fired it. The arrow struck the center. She lowered her bow and looked at Theon while the Dornishmen in the stands applauded. Prince Oberyn looked particularly proud and his daughters were amongst the loudest of the cheerers. But Bran noticed that only the Dornish were cheering. The royal family might have clapped but amongst the nobles gathered, there was no one else.

The herald banged his staff against the post and the cheers subsided. "Lady Sarella has fired all of her arrows. Therefore the range is Lord Greyjoy's. My lord, draw your arrows at your pleasure."

Theon did draw his arrows. But he did it differently than she had. He shot his one after the other, not stopping to aim. He didn't have to. Bran knew that he trained with his bow constantly whenever he was in the training yard at Winterfell. All three arrows struck the center, clustered together.

It didn't take the herald long to declare, "Lord Theon Greyjoy is the winner." Bran cheered along with Rickon and Robb. The rest of the Pack cheered just as loudly but he found the ironmen were strangely silent. Again, there was polite clapping from everyone else.

Theon and Sarella Sand were brought back to the shore. They stepped off the boats. The winnings were offered to Theon but he ignored for Sarella. "You remember our deal?" he asked her.

She scowled at him. "Yes, I remember."

"Brother, stop him," the princess said to Viserys.

"Stop him from what?" he replied. He sounded confused.

Bran kept his eyes on the shore. Something seemed to be happening and he didn't want to miss it. The people already there began to edge close, to see better. "Your bow," Theon told the Dornishwoman, holding his hand out toward her. She scowled even fiercer but she handed it over.

He took it and began looking it over, inspecting it from all angles. "It will be better than any now you've ever held," she told him. Even though she said those words, Bran could see that she looked at him angrily for taking what was hers.

She turned to leave but Theon said, "I haven't commanded." She turned back around and opened her mouth but he spoke again. "Who are you?"

"What is this? You know who I am."

He kept looking at the bow, turning it over in his hands. "Tell me."

"I am Sarella Sand."

"Who is your father?"

"The Red Viper, Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne."

"And your mother?" he asked.

"A Summer Islander sea captain," she said with a flippant tone. It almost sounded like she didn't care who her mother was. Bran didn't think that was right.

"So you are a bastard then."

She scoffed loudly. "I would've thought that it was obvious from my name."

He stopped examining the bow and looked up at her. "And who am I?" he asked her.

"You are—"

"Don't call me an ironman," he said, stopping her before she could start. "Say my name, my father's name, and my mother's name."

She scowled more. "Fine, you are Theon Greyjoy, son of Balon Greyjoy and his wife Alannys." She paused and then smirked. "He was nothing but a raiding piece of scum and you are his pathetic whelp of a son. I heard that he gave you up to the Northmen without even a fight."

Theon just looked at her. "That may be, but I am still a trueborn child and you are still a bastard. So tell me, Sarella Sand, what made you believe that you could torment me freely? Did you think it was because you had some relation to the royal family?"

"If you weren't pathetic, I wouldn't have bothered you," she told him.

"So you only attack those who are weaker. I see."

She didn't seem that impressed by his words. "Are we done?" Bran felt uneasy. It was like she wasn't taking any of this seriously.

He was still smiling at her. It was his cocky grin that meant he knew something she didn't. "No, I still haven't told you what I want from you. But I will tell you now." His grin turned cruel and vicious. He brought the bow over his knee and the grounds rang with it breaking into two. He went to the riverbank and tossed the pieces into the water. "What I want you to do is learn some fucking humility and remember your place before you even think about picking up a bow again." He walked away, leaving her staring at the river.

Bran looked at everyone else. The ironmen seemed pleased, the royal family looked concerned, and the Dornishmen were outraged, none more so than Prince Oberyn. But no one touched Theon as he took his winnings and walked away. It was then that he had realized that this was what the princess had meant when she said Theon would do something nasty. But how did she know about it?

* * *

Later, Bran was in the training yard, practicing his forms with a wooden sword. He had hoped he was ready to use an actual tourney sword but the master-at-arms refused him. As he did the forms over and over again, he strained his ear. He knew that Jon was on the other side of the yard with Tommen and Ned, training them to be back brothers. He felt that twinge of jealously again. He should be the one learning from his brother, not boys who weren't even from the North!

He finished the form and lowered his sword. He heard a snigger behind him and he turned to see one of the Sand Snakes. She was one of the younger four but looked to be older than him. She was probably the one named for the queen. "Yes?" he said.

She looked down at his weapon. "You're training with a wooden sword at your age? How weak you must be."

Anger and embarrassment burned on his face. "I'm not weak!" he protested loudly, causing nearby people looking their way. He looked at her own weapon, a spear.

She saw him and smiled smugly. "Of course you are. I was training with live steel when I was your age. I bet I could beat you." She pushed his shoulder with her spear. "Shall we see?"

He didn't raise his sword. "I won't fight you."

"Why?"

"You're a girl. Girls don't fight."

She laughed and he felt more embarrassed. "So says the little boy with a wooden sword. You see this?" she asked, shoving the spear in his face. The blade glinted in the light as it quivered underneath his nose. "This is real steel, not some tourney weapon. That should show you how good I've gotten."

"Then you should be able to back your words up then," Osha said as she walked up to them, spear in hand. "Or do you prefer just to pick on those younger than you?"

Elia kept on smiling as she withdrew her spear and the smugness seemed to grow. Bran heard footsteps to his left. He looked and saw the elder Snakes standing there. Sarella looked furious but Obara looked pleased. "Do you pick on those younger than you?" she asked, holding her own spear. "Or do you want an actual match?" Other Dornishmen were beginning to gather from the edge of the grounds. Bran thought that the Sand Snakes had gathered them.

He looked around, trying to see if Jon was in the crowd. But all he saw were Dornishmen. _"Jon, Robb, help,"_ he silently begged. But his brothers wouldn't show. They weren't in sight.

"If you want that," Osha said, "I'll fight you, only you." She put a hand on Bran's shoulder and led him away. "Come now, little lord. You wouldn't want to be in the way."

"Don't fight her, Osha," he told her, clutching her arm while she led him to the edge.

She grinned wryly. "I know I can hold my own."

"Against all of them?" he asked, looking at all the Dornishmen. There seemed like there was more and more of them each time he looked at them. He felt foolish for leaving Summer with the other wolves in the godswood.

"Look again, little lord. We're not alone as you think." She looked around the enclosing circle and so did he. He saw a few Northern faces in the crowd but they were few and in the back. But before he could say anything to her, she left.

"Are you ready?" Obara Sand demanded, shifting her spear into a ready position.

Osha walked towards her, moving her own spear to the ready. "Are you?" she asked back, completely confident. "This would probably be your first real fight, if I was serious. Tell me, was this your idea? Or did your cousin put you up to this?" She knelt down and grabbed some dirt. She had shown Bran the trick before. It was a better way to grip a weapon. She stood up and faced the Dornish bastard.

They moved closer and, spears flicking out like tongues of serpents. The Snake held her spear tight in two hands but the wilding held hers almost lazily in one. She brushed aside any probing attacks with ease. But just as Obara readied and lunged to attack, she threw the dirt in her free hand. It caught in Obara's eyes and caught her by surprise.

She closed her eyes. Osha moved. She slammed her spear's shaft into her stomach, making her fold inward. Osha brought the shaft down on her back hard, sending her to the ground. Before Obara could get back up, the wilding had her spear against her head. "That was pathetic," she declared. "Children of the Free Folk fight better."

What happened next was absolute chaos to Bran. One second the two women were alone in the center, the next it was a battle. He couldn't see any clear faces. They were all blurs. He couldn't see if a person was Dornish or Northern. _"Is this what battle looks like?"_ It was terrifying. All he could do was keep his sword up in a guard position.

The sounds pounded away in his ears and all he could feel was the sword in his hand. He wished that it would be over. "CEASE THIS FIGHTING IN THE NAME OF THE KING!" roared a loud voice, washing over the other sounds and making them halt completely.

The bodies all around him parted and Bran saw King Rhaegar standing at the entrance to the yard. Ser Hightower and Ser Dayne were at his side, along with his son and daughter. His Hand, Lord Connington, stood close by alongside Queen Elia and looked just as angry as the king while Mya Stone was by the princess's side. He strode into the yard like the Warrior had descended to the earth. "What is this?" he asked in a voice that seemed quiet but also managed to be heard by everyone. "Are you not all noble lords of Westeros? What is the reason that you were all fight like common drunks?"

"I can help you with that," Osha said, walking to him. Her eyes found Lord Connington and they looked interested, to Bran at least.

The king looked at her. "Who are you, my lady?" he asked.

She barked out a laugh. "I ain't no lady, kneeler king. I'm Osha and I'm a spearwife of the Starks."

"She's the wilding that came with them, Father," Prince Aegon told him.

"I see." He kept his eyes on her. "What happened?"

"One of the snakes you keep around wanted to try and torment the little lord."

"That's not true, your Grace," Elia Sand said, pushing through to the king. "I had come to Brandon Stark to see if he wished to spar. She came over and tried to attack me. My sister came to defend me!" The elder Sand Snakes joined her, along with Princess Arianne.

" _Liar!"_ shouted Bran in his head. He realized that he had said aloud too when everyone looked at him. "She's a liar, King Rhaegar," he said, willing himself to come to the king and not be afraid. "She came up to me, taunting me about my training. She boasted how she was better than I was and challenged me to a spar. When I refused, she held her spear to my face. Osha stopped her and then her sister appeared, like they were lying in wait."

"Aye, he has the right of it," Prince Viserys said as he appeared from the crowd, looking as if he had been a part of the fighting that had just happened.

The king looked to his brother. "You saw this all happen, Viserys?"

"I did. It happened just like Bran said it happened." He looked at the Sand Snakes with a scornful look, particularly at Sarella. "What's the matter? Angry at the fact your plaything decided to bite back?" He looked at his brother. "Did you know, Rhaegar, what Sarella Sand did to entertain herself while in Riverrun? She was harassing and tormenting Theon Greyjoy. What I said was true: Oberyn Martell's daughters are running wild. They believe no one should be able to stop them."

"That may be, Viserys," Queen Elia said. Her children were looking at their cousins with new eyes. "But that does excuse the fact these Northern lords and Dornish lords erupted into a brawl. I had received word that ties were being made between them on the way to Riverrun. I saw the truth of it with my own eyes. But now, it is like those ties were never there to begin with. They were all too eager to fight."

Viserys turned his gaze to Princess Arianne and he smiled. It was a smile that sent a shiver down Bran's spine and made him lean closer to Osha for protection. The Dornish Princess paled at the smile. "That is quite simple, Elia," Viserys said to her. "You see, the Northerners lost what respect and friendship they had for the Dornish when they heard that the Princess Arianne decided to be a prissy little bitch and threatened to harm my betrothed in the middle of the night, along with her cousins the Sand Snakes."

All eyes fell on the Dornish Princess and her cousins. Both Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys looked at them like they were seeing them for the first time. Princess Arianne opened her mouth to say something but it snapped shut when the queen stood before her. "Leave," Queen Elia told her. "All of you. We will talk later."

"Aunt Elia—"

"Leave, Arianne," she said her voice even colder. Bran couldn't see her face but he imagined that it looked like his own mother when she was mad. "Go to your quarters." They left quickly and she turned her attention to the people in the yard. She or the king didn't say anything. Everyone dispersed.

* * *

The Starks had gathered in their own quarters, all around Bran. "Are you alright?" Sansa asked him. She was sitting next to the fire. She held her hands together like she did not know what to do with them.

"Yes, Sansa," he told her while Mother looked him over.

"You already asked him three times, stupid," Arya said with a roll of her eyes. She sat on the other side of the fire, slouching into her chair.

"Arya!" snapped Mother. She fell silent but still glared at Sansa.

Bran tried pushing away Mother's fingers away. "I'm fine, Mother." Rickon sat by his side. He looked bored and would rather be somewhere else.

She pulled her fingers away. But she still looked mad. "I can't believe that those girls would try to torment you, for no reason. This is absolutely outrageous," she said.

"Viserys had the right of it," Robb said from where he stood against the window. Their direwolves were all laying their heads on the floor. Ghost was missing, as was Jon Snow. Joce wasn't there either. "Those Sand Snakes have been running roughshod over everyone who gets in their way."

"Then why has no one done anything?"

Even though the thought was traitorous and wrong, Bran couldn't help but wonder, _"Why didn't you do anything until now?"_ He knew why. It had been him that was threatened and bullied. His mother had done nothing for Theon.

"Not all of the Sand Snakes are bad," Sansa said, coming to their defense.

Arya looked at her with outrage and anger. "You are so stupid! You were the one who threatened and you're defending them!?"

She looked around for support. "I was talking about the younger ones. They are quite sweet and innocent."

"And when have you ever met them? Aren't they bastards and shouldn't be met?" she asked with a snide voice. Sansa didn't reply, looking away from her sister. Bran knew that she kept Jon at an arm's length because of his bastardy.

"Lady Stark," Jory's voice called out from the door to their quarters. "The queen would like to speak to you and your family."

Bran was shocked. The queen wanted to see them? Mother stood up and smoothed out her skirts. "Please let her in, Jory." Sansa stood up and mimicked her actions. Bran stood up too and made Rickon stand too.

The door opened and Queen Elia stepped in. She had changed from the dress she had worn at the archery contest into one that was plainer. Yet she still made it look regal. "Lady Stark," she greeted Mother before turned to Robb. "Lord Robb." The wolves looked up from where they were resting to look at her but that was all.

"Queen Elia is there something you need?" asked Mother. She did not look happy but she didn't let it out.

The queen turned to her. "I came to see if your son was alright, Lady Stark, and ensure that there will be no bad blood between our families."

"Speak to your own family then," Robb told her. It was obvious that he was trying to keep his anger down about what had happened. "We came to this tourney in good faith and hopes of friendship. It was the Dornish who chose to harass us and it was House Martell that led the harassment, your Grace." He added the honorific at the end because of etiquette, Bran thought.

His words were offensive but the queen did not look offended. "I am aware of what my family has done to yours, Lord Stark. But I had also looked at the faces in the yards and I only saw young faces, faces that never fought in the Usurper's War. They have no idea what it is to fight a war and then live after it."

"That doesn't excuse the fact that they came after us for no good reason!" Arya declared, looking at the queen with angry eyes. Nymeria drew back her lips and bared her teeth at the queen.

"Arya!" said a horrified Sansa. Mother looked at her angrily.

But the queen looked at Arya with something that looked like it was half-fondness, half-reminiscent. "Yes, it does not excuse it," she agreed. "I fear the fault lies with my brother, Oberyn. He never forgave Rhaegar for what happened with Lyanna. I believe that he has come to think that it was her fault and thus, blames her and all Northerners, which has rubbed off his daughters and our niece."

"And what of you, your Grace?" Mother asked with a bite to her voice. "What do you think of Lyanna?"

It was mad to challenge the queen like she had done. But the queen didn't look angry. "You think that because of what happened at Harrenhal, I should be angered at Lyanna?" she asked. "You know of that day, Lady Stark, but you don't know what happened that night."

Mother frowned, her anger replaced by confusion. "That night?" she said.

The queen nodded gravely. "I was angry that Rhaegar had passed me over for Lyanna Stark that day. I refused to speak to him, going to my bed without uttering a single word. That night, I awoke to the sound of flesh hitting wood and someone cursing. I found Lyanna Stark in my room trying to leave it. I ordered her to stop and demanded what she was doing there. I had thought that she had come to gloat, to lord her victory over me.

"Instead, she looked at the table and said, 'I was trying to give these to the rightful owner.' When I looked at the table myself, I saw the crown she had been given."

Bran watched his mother become surprised. He was surprised too. They had all heard of the tourney at Harrenhal. But this he didn't know. "Why would she do that?" he found himself asking.

The queen turned her eyes to him. "I asked her the same thing. She told me that I had married, in her own words, 'A blundering bloody blockhead of a fool.' She apologized to me, saying that if she had known, she would not have had attended the last joust. Her piece said she left without another word. The next morning, I was calm when I talked to my husband. And he told me why he had given her the crown."

"What was the reason?" Arya asked.

She smiled as she looked at Mother. "He gave her the crown because of what she had done to have honor taught to three squires."

It didn't make any kind of sense to Bran. But he watched his mother's face rippled into stunned amazement. "Her?" she said. "It was her?"

The queen nodded. "Yes, it was. Now you know why I do not bare your family any hatred because of Lyanna Stark. Good day, Lady Stark." She walked out of the room, just as regally as she had entered.

* * *

Bran walked down the corridor, his mind full of his aunt Lyanna. It hounded his mind so much that he almost ran into a corner. He managed to stop himself just before he ran his nose into it but it was still a little embarrassing. He heard voices around the corner and when he looked, he saw Jon with Princess Rhaenys. They shared a few words so quiet that he couldn't hear them. To his surprise, she leaned in and kissed him. What was even more surprising was the fact that he didn't stop her.

When she finally left, his bastard brother stared after her. "Jon?" he called out as he stepped out.

"Bran?" he said, surprised. "How, how long were you standing there?"

"Just before she kissed you. Why was the princess kissed you?"

"I don't know. We were talking about how I had gotten the Pack into the yard and then she kissed me. They've been trying to do that but she's the only one who's succeeded."

He looked at his bastard brother. He looked like he was staring far away. A bad feeling erupted in Bran's stomach. It was like that the Starks were going to lose him. That couldn't happen. He was one of them, one of the pack. "Summer will stay with you until we leave Riverrun," he declared.

Jon looked at him. "Summer is your direwolf."

"Because it looks like you need him. I will tell the others. They'll do the same." He knew that they would. They would protect their own.

But Jon laughed and ruffled his hair. "The wolves are already at my side constantly, little brother. They've been keeping a watch out for the ladies. Come on, I think the yard is clear enough for some sword practicing."

His heart soared at the prospect at getting some training from his brother. But even as he followed him, he knew that their wolves would have to stay with him completely now. How else would the princess know to find him when Ghost wasn't nearby?

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

What was coming for the Dornish has come at last. But wait, we're not done. There's the follow up punch to come. I mean really, did they think they were going to get off scot-free?

On the other hand, Elia was something different. They always say that Rhaegar gave Lyanna the flowers, but they never talk about what happened afterwards. Considering that Lyanna was a Stark, her trying to give the flowers to Elia seems plausible to me.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 23: Aegon

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

The breakfast in the morning following the training yard incident was tense. Aegon sat by his father's side next to his uncle while Rhaenys and Dany sat next to his mother. Their Dornish cousins sat at the other end of the table. Arianne sat at the head with Oberyn on her right and Quentyn on her left. She paid no attention to her brother, choosing rather instead to listen to whatever it was their uncle had to say. Ellaria sat by Oberyn's side and her children sat next to her while the elder Sand Snakes sat by Quentyn.

It should have been a breakfast between the two families, in a private hall of Riverrun. But somehow the Tyrells found out and asked to join them, "As the family of the bride-to-be," Lord Mace Tyrell proclaimed loudly. Aegon had hoped to the Seven that his father would refuse but that hope turned to dust faster than he could blink. Then Renly Baratheon decided to join the Tyrells in the breakfast and to round it out, Mother invited Lord Stannis and Lady Shireen to the breakfast.

And now they all sat, waiting for the storm that was come to hit. The only one who didn't seem to understand the situation was the Fat Flower. Lord Tyrell was talking about something loudly _"The truly ironic thing,"_ Aegon couldn't help but think to himself as he ate a piece of meat with some cheese, _"is the person that feels the most awkward here isn't even related to any of our houses."_ When Lord Stannis had been invited, he had brought along Ser Davos Seaworth too.

He looked down the table at the Onion Knight. The man looked out of place amongst their finery wearing his woolen clothes with muted colors. He kept his eyes to the table, bearing careful in how he ate. Aegon saw that he was trying his best to not appear as one of the smallfolk to them and he admired the man's courage. He wondered if it was cruelness of Lord Stannis to bring him here to this breakfast or was it to show him how to act among the nobles. If it was the latter, there was no need for the lesson.

Lady Shireen leaned to his side and whispered something in his ear. He replied in the same tone and she smiled. He paid more attention to her than anyone else at the table. Lady Margaery sat on his other side and tried to speak to him too but he only replied in short answers. Aegon was glad to have been sitting next to Renly than Margaery this morning. The last thing that he needed to be reminded of was the fact of their betrothal.

As Shireen went to back to her food, Aegon's eyes looked away and found her bastard cousin. Mya Stone stood quietly behind Rhaenys's seat, holding a pitcher in her hands. She only moved when Rhaenys or someone else in the royal family quietly signaled her. The only one who hadn't so far was him.

"Thank you, Lord Tyrell," his father said.

" _Oh, he must've stopped talking,"_ Aegon thought to himself. He had learned to tune out Mace Tyrell. It was rude but he did not care.

"No, my king, thank you," Lord Tyrell said back. "It is only at being your servants and serving your commands that we were able to betroth Margaery to Prince Aegon."

Renly grinned. "Aye, it is because of your loyalty that you were able to grow strong, Lord Tyrell." They both laughed at the little joke and the rest of the Tyrells chuckled too. None of them seemed to notice Lord Stannis grinding his teeth.

" _Lord Tyrell must be talking about how he laid siege to Storm's End again,"_ the prince thought to himself. The Seven only knows how many times he had heard that story from the Fat Flower. But do it in front of the man he besieged was not even something Aegon would do. It was in very bad taste.

He chose to turn his attention back to his food. He picked out an apple from a nearby basket. The taste was sweet when he bit into the skin, the juices flowing down the sides of his mouth. As he chewed the piece, savoring the taste, he looked to his uncle. Viserys was eating a piece of meat but his eyes kept looking around the table. "Trying to find something in particular, uncle?" Aegon asked him quietly.

He flicked his eyes to him. "Yes, looking for the jam. I'm hoping that there is some blackberry. I enjoy blackberry jam on bread."

"What is jam?" He had never heard of such a thing. It sounded like something that would get stuck in the teeth.

Viserys looked at him like he couldn't believe what he had heard. "It's a kind of food from the North," he finally said. "It can be spread on bread and the like to add flavor to it." He sighed in disappointment. "I should have expected that the south would not have it yet. They never could understand what the North has to offer."

He felt insulted at such words. He was the Prince of Dragonstone, the heir to the Iron Throne. He had eaten the best of foods and drank the finest of wines from all of the Seven Kingdoms. But then his anger stopped. _"No, I haven't had it all from the Seven Kingdoms. I've only had it from five of them."_ He had never been to the North or even the Iron Islands. This was probably the farthest north he had ever been in his life. "Do you know how it's made?" he asked instead. "Perhaps someone in King's Landing could make it?"

"I don't. If I find it, I'll try to send a raven with the instructions."

His uncle made it sound like he would be going back North after the tourney and never coming back. That was something that could be talked about later. "Are there other kinds of jams?"

"Yes," he said absently, focusing more on his bread than his nephew. He tore into it with ferociousness that could rival a dragon's. When he was done, he looked up and at the Dornish party. "Rhaegar," he said aloud.

"Yes, Viserys?" the king replied, turning to look at him. There was a hopeful look in Aegon's father's eyes. He must have hoped that they would be able to talk like brothers.

But there were no such words that came from Viserys's mouth. "What are you going to do with them?" he asked, looking directly at Arianne.

Aegon looked at them too. So did everyone else. The elder Sand Snakes glared at them all in return. Uncle Oberyn saved his glare for the king. Arianne didn't glare but she met everyone's gaze. "They will leave today for Dorne," Father said, "After this meal."

Obella, Dorea, and Loreza all looked up. They were shocked at the news, it showed on their face. "We're leaving?" Loreza asked.

"We can't leave!" her sister protested loudly. "We're still learning how to swim!"

Their mother looked at them. "Yes, my dears."

Dorea looked angry, "We're not going to leave," she declared, her face setting into a stubborn look. It was a look that Aegon had seen on her father.

Elia Sand looked at her little sisters. "There's no point arguing about it," she told them shortly. "We're going."

"No!" she shouted back. "We're still learning how to swim. We can't leave before we're done."

"Girls," Mother said to them, getting their attention. "I'm afraid that it has been already decided."

Obella looked like she was about to cry. "It's not fair that we're being punished because they did something stupid!" she proclaimed, pointing at her elder sisters with an accusing finger. Her sisters nodded in their agreement before glaring at the rest of the Snakes.

Aegon might have found it humorous, if the situation didn't look like it was about to explode. The Tyrells, with the exception of Willas and Garlan, looked like they were enjoying the show. Renly was the same as them but his brother and niece looked like they didn't want to be there. Oberyn was clenching his hands as he stared at Olenna Tyrell. She watched him back with a satisfied look. Meanwhile Obara, Nym, Tyene, Sarella, and Elia looked at their little sisters like they had just been betrayed.

This was a situation that needed to be fixed, quickly. "Father," he spoke before any actual plan came to him. When they looked at him, he had to keep going. "The girls have the right of it. They share in none of the blame for what their sisters did. Perhaps they should stay while the others go."

"And who would look after them?" Father asked him.

He didn't have an answer. He looked down the Targaryen side of the table, trying to find an answer there. He couldn't ask his father or mother. Viserys wasn't a viable option because he might take his venom against the girls out of spite. So that only left two people, his sister or his aunt. While he did love his aunt, he didn't think that leaving the girls with her was a good idea. "Rhae, could you look after them?" he asked his sister.

She looked at him with a look of irritation. She opened her mouth to speak but Mother spoke first. "That's quite alright, Aegon. Quentyn and I will look after the girls." She looked at Ellaria across the table. "They will be taken care of."

Ellaria only nodded but her children were overjoyed. "Yay!" they shouted together. Their sisters still looked like they were betrayed by them. Quentyn looked conflicted. He seemed to be glad that he was staying but also saddened that he was staying.

Rhaenys gave Aegon another look. He wasn't sure what the look meant. She looked away at Mya. She didn't say anything but the handmaiden came forward and poured her goblet full. "Mya, me too," Daenerys told her, rising her goblet.

"Yes, my lady," Mya replied quietly, going to her as well. She stayed silent as she poured the drink.

That seemed to be the moment that everyone wanted her. "Mya," Renly called out to his bastard niece. He held his goblet for her.

She came over and poured for him too. She walked away and stopped behind Stannis. "My lord?" she asked quietly.

Aegon turned his eyes her way. That was a rare thing for Mya to do, ask someone if they wanted a drink instead of waiting for them to signal her. Stannis said nothing. He didn't even look her way. She stayed behind him, her hands holding the jug in waiting position. "Might I have some?" Margaery asked, holding her own goblet up.

Mya gave her uncle one last look before walking over to Aegon's betrothed. The thought still made Aegon irritable but he was more irritable with Lord Stannis. _"That is your niece, Lord Baratheon,"_ he thought to himself. _"The least you could do was acknowledged her."_

Mya finished pouring and stepped back. "Thank you," Margaery said only to stop and looked confused. "I am sorry, but what is your name again?" Mya didn't say anything back. She only lowered the pitcher.

"Margaery, you know what her name is," Willas Tyrell told her, rebuking her with his gently stern voice.

But their father overrode him. "Leave her be, Willas. She is to marry Prince Aegon."

" _What does that have to do with this situation?"_ Aegon asked. He was certain the Fat Flower brought it up because he could.

Arianne tracked Mya as she moved around the table. "Do you have nothing to say, bastard?" she asked. Mya didn't reply. It prompted her on. "Surely you must have something to say to us all."

"She must," Obara spoke before anyone could stop her.

But Olenna Tyrell cut her off before she could continue. "Do shut up, girl. You've already been enough of an embarrassment. If you would like to shame yourself and your father more, do it outside of my presence. You, girl," she said to Mya, holding her goblet up. "You missed me."

"Your pardon, Lady Olenna," she replied, going over to her and filling her drink.

Aegon had a bad feeling in his stomach as he watched the scene. Something was about to happen. "You are surprising, girl," the Queen of Thorns remarked as Mya finished. "You have your father's looks but you certainly do not act like him. I was always of the belief that the children of an oaf are oafs in turn. After all, I gave birth to one and I was married to one." She looked over at her son as she spoke.

"Mother," the Fat Flower tried to say.

"Hush, Mace." She looked at Mya, standing silently beside her. "Got nothing to say, girl? I'm sure that with all you've been since they took you down from the Eyre, you've got a thing or two to say to all of us. Are you afraid of repercussions if you speak out?" She still didn't say anything and it only irritated the old lady. "Well? Have you gone mute, girl?"

"No, my lady," she said with a patience that Aegon wouldn't have thought that she could have in that moment.

"Well, speak your mind. I am sure that we would all love to hear what you have to say to all of us."

Mya still didn't say anything to that. Instead, she replied, "You are very kind, my lady."

"Kind?" repeated Lady Tyrell whilst rolling her eyes, "Fah! It is hard to believe you are Robert Baratheon's bastard."

"Do you have nothing to say, bastard?" Nym asked Mya as she walked away from Lady Olenna. "You must have words for us. Or are you craven?"

"Nym, stop," Rhaenys told their cousin.

"No, Nym's right," Arianne said, joining their cousin in support.

Quentyn looked sharply at his sister but one look from Uncle Oberyn silenced him before he could open his mouth. "Yes," Tyene agreed with her sister and cousin. "Let us hear what you have to say. Come, Mya Stone, speak."

Still Mya said nothing. She walked back around to Rhaenys and waited in silence. "Mya," Rhaenys said, "Why do you not say anything?"

"I know my place, your highness," she replied. Before now, Aegon had always thought that she meant that she was only a bastard. But now, it seemed more like that she was talking about how she was a handmaiden and they were related to the royal family. Was that why she had never spoken out before?

"Speak now, Mya," his sister commanded. "Whatever reprisals you might fear, you will be protected from them."

Her handmaiden didn't change expressions. "Even from the royal family?" she asked.

He went still and he saw the rest of the family go still too. He didn't know why they would be like that. _"Is it because of me?"_

His father said, "Do you have something to say to House Targaryen, Mya Stone? Do you have something to say to me?" The silent question wasn't so silent. They all waited to hear her reply. Aegon did wonder if she held something against the king for what he to her father. She had never said anything before, but he was beginning to believe that she had never said a lot of things before.

"No, your Grace," she finally spoke. "I have nothing to say to House Targaryen. You have done well by me and I have been your faithful servant."

"Indeed, you have. As a reward for your loyalty, I will support my daughter's decision. Speak your mind, Mya, and you will be protected."

She still didn't say anything but now there was a confused look on her face. It was a confusion of the inward sort. She looked down to the bracer on her arm, the one she had gotten when she had defended him from that stag. Finally, she walked to a nearby table, filled with more pitchers and wines, and placed hers down on. "Lord Stannis," she said quietly, yet loud enough for them all to hear. "Could you please have Shireen excused from the room?"

Aegon hadn't expected that question. He would have thought that she would talk right away. He looked down the table quickly at Stannis. The man looked at his niece's back for a long moment before nodding. "Ser Davos," he said.

It was the only thing that he said before the Onion Knight stood up from his chair and helped Lady Shireen out of her chair. The girl herself looked confused and upset. "Why must I go?" she asked, looking to her father and her cousin.

Mya replied, "I would rather not have you listen or see what comes next, coz." She waited until the door was closed and for a few seconds afterwards before finally turning to look at them all. There was something different in her eyes as she strode to the Tyrells, something that felt like a long awaited storm was about to be unleashed. "Lord Mace," she began, looking at the Fat Flower. "We are all aware of how you were rewarded your daughter's betrothal to the crown prince by the king by sitting on your arse. Perhaps if you had gotten to your knees or your backside, he would have given you the Seven Kingdoms?"

Lord Tyrell looked shocked at her words. It was probably because someone had never spoken to him like that, not even his own mother. Mya turned to the Knight of Flowers. "You, you flouncing little shit, are completely insufferable. You prance around like we should be glad that we were able to see you. You sit on a horse charging at other people sitting on horses with a big stick and yet somehow, this makes you think that you are the Warrior come again to walk the land. What you are is a twit.

"And you," she said, whirling to face his sister, "You are just as big of a twit. Don't speak!" she barked out when Margaery opened her mouth. "You've been speaking ever since we met. It's my turn to speak and you're going to listen! I know that you have a brain inside your head. I know that you know my name. Pretending to forget my name every time we meet is annoying, especially when we both know you are not that stupid. Actually, I take that back, it is possible you are that stupid. You seem to be under the delusion that I am here to steal your betrothed from you when I have made it perfectly clear that I have no interest in him. But considering who taught you, it's no wonder you are a twit."

She looked at Lady Olenna, who looked quite irritated at being called out as such. "Look here, girl," she started.

"Lady Tyrell, for once in your life, shut the fuck up!" Mya suddenly roared. "I am talking here! What caused you to think that I would be a problem for your granddaughter? Why do you insist on having her causing me grief whenever we are close together? Is it because you still felt slighted that Daeron Targaryen refused you for someone else who wasn't even a woman? Yes, I know about that. Despite what you might say about what you did, Queen of Thorns, I know the truth of the matter."

"Mya," Renly said, standing up from his chair. "That's enough now." He walked over to her side. "You've said enough. Why don't you just—"

As he reached her, he placed his hand on her shoulder. She whipped and punched him hard in the face. Aegon was shocked as he fell to the ground and she stood over him. "You were there at Storm's End, when they besieged it," she told her, her voice suddenly trying to contain her fury. Was she trying to hold it in because he was family? "You were there when they tried to starve you out. And you decide to go ahead and join their side, choosing to forget your own family? You…!" She stopped herself before she continued, even though it seemed she was about to scream. "Just go sit down, Renly, and don't do anything."

She whirled around, stalking past the Tyrells to the Martells. "And you!" she said, pointing a judging finger at Arianne. "What in the seven hells did I ever do to you to deserve your hatred? You seemed determined to hate me before I had even met you. I was told that bastards were looked differently in Dorne and yet, you have proven to be a liar time and time again. And I know that is you because your cousins don't do anything unless you barked a command!"

Obara and Nymeria stood up with such force that they knocked their chairs down to the ground. Nymeria had her whip out but Mya was there before either one of them could do something. She grabbed the whip out of Nym's hand and quickly wrapped it around her neck, pulling tightly. "Sit! Down!" she told the rest of the elder Sand Snakes and their father before they could get fully out of their chairs. She said it with such a force that Tyene and Sarella sat down instantly.

" _Seven hells,"_ Aegon thought in horror. _"She is furious."_ She was strangling his cousin with her own whip and no one did a thing to stop her.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" she said to Nym, still pulling the whip tight. Nymeria clawed at the whip, trying to get free of it. "See, this is what I have been forced to deal with, every single day with you people." She kept pulling the whip tight until it seemed like Nymeria's face was red with blood. She suddenly let go and Nym fell against the table, gasping for breath. Mya looked at them all. "I have put up with all of your hatred, all of your fear, all of your loathing, and I have never done anything to you. So, please, leave me alone!" She walked away from Nymeria and over to Rhaenys. "Your pardon, Princess, I will see myself out." She was trying to be her calm self again, but it was hard to see it.

"Of course, Mya," Rhaenys said back. She was doing her best to not sound awed or scared as she spoke. They all watched as she left the room.

When the door closed, the silence was broken. "Well," Lady Olenna said, "It seems that I was right after all. She is her father's daughter."

"That was not Robert." All eyes fell to Lord Stannis, Aegon's included. In all that time, he had not said a word. "That was my father." He sounded almost proud of the fact. If Aegon didn't know any better, he would've thought he saw a smile hinting around his lips.

"What do you mean by that, Lord Stannis?" Mother asked him.

He looked at her, that ghost of a smile still on his lips. "Robert was the one who angered quickly, roaring and yelling when things didn't go his way. My father was a patient man, who listened to everything people had to say, both good and ill. But when his temper was roused against those who had displeased him, his fury would be unleashed upon them in a well-deserved storm." He looked at the door. "That girl is my father come again, a true Baratheon."

* * *

When the night came, Aegon held court in the godswood again. Arianne and the others had left after the breakfast. With them gone, the rest of the Dornish seemed more subdued. Things between them and the Northerners were still tense, but he could see that there was hope for mending.

He walked amongst the people sitting around the stones and roots. Most of the women were once again focused on Jon Snow. Those who were flirting with other men were clearly only doing it to garner his attention. Then Aegon noticed the frown on Robb Stark's face. _"Is he jealous?"_ he asked himself. It was a little amusing. He had seen many men look jealous when they were passed over in the Women's game.

He made his way over to Lord Stark and Theon Greyjoy. "Good evening, my lords," he greeted them both as he sat down beside them.

"Prince Aegon," Robb Stark said wearily. He must still apprehensive about talking to him like this.

He ignored it for the moment, choosing to look at the ironman sitting next to him. "Lord Greyjoy, I must admit that I was surprised your sister was skilled to handle an axe this day." He had watched the axe and knife throwing contest earlier and Asha Greyjoy had taken the first place prize for both.

Her brother only grunted. "It seems like it would be a wise thing to never underestimate Asha." It was clear that he didn't want to talk about her anymore. Perhaps it was because Asha had taken a knife from Willas Tyrell to win the knife contest and then gave it back with a grin that seemed to promise things. If Aegon hadn't known Willas like he did, he would've thought that the two of them had already slept together.

He looked down at Robb Stark and saw that he was still frowning. "What's the matter, Lord Stark?" he asked. "Has your bastard brother done something wrong by you?"

The question broke his frown. He looked at the prince with a confused look. "What?"

"You seem to be staring at him like he had something wrong. Should there be cause for worry?"

He shook his rapidly enough, it was a wonder it didn't fly off. "No, Jon hasn't done anything wrong." He looked back at the bastard. "I'm just worried for him."

"Why would you be worried for him?"

"He's my brother." One of the ladies leaned forward and placed a hand on Jon Snow's arm. "Bran's told me that the ladies have been paying attention to him, more so than what is proper."

Aegon tried hard not to snigger. "And you've only just notice this?" he asked.

"No, I just didn't think about it. But now, I can't help but see it."

"Rest your mind, Lord Stark. This is a normal thing for our southern tourneys."

He looked at him like he had heard dragons had been brought back. "It is?"

"Yes," the Prince of Dragonstone said with a nod. "It's known as the Women's game. The ladies who attend the tourney will pick a man. They will each try to seduce him. The winner is decided when the man asks for their favor. And despite if he wins at his event or not, the winner will offer herself to him."

The wolf lord looked utterly shocked and the kraken looked stunned. "And they picked the bastard?" Theon Greyjoy asked.

"It would seem so."

He lost his surprise and it was replaced by laughter barely contained. "Oh this is fucking priceless! This is too much!"

"It's wrong is what it is," Robb declared, his gaze turning to stone.

"What do you mean by that, my lord?" Aegon asked, frowning.

"Is that all that happens? The winner will sleep with Jon and just leave it at that?"

He barely gave it some thought. "Yes, that's about it." He had seen it play out before. That was the way it went.

"And nothing happens afterwards?"

"No."

His face became even sterner. "That is not good. This needs to stop."

"Stop the Women's game?" Aegon asked, stunned and surprised. "Lord Stark, you do not stop the Women's game. It's considered quite rude."

"I'm more worried about my brother then some stupid southron game. I won't let him get hurt."

"Don't worry, Robb," Theon Greyjoy told him, finally managing to stop his sniggering. "You won't have to do anything much. We're talking about Jon Snow here. He's stubborn as hell."

"Still we must do something to stop this. What happens when the tourney is over and we go back to Winterfell? I will not have Jon be harmed by some fling disguised as a romance."

Aegon gave him a look. "That's putting it a bit harsh, Lord Robb." It was only a game. Surely Jon Dualfang was aware of that. The prince could admit that he was a handsome bastard and understood why the ladies would want him.

But Robb Stark gave him a hard look and Theon laughed again. "Prince Aegon, have you forgotten that we are talking about the bastard who fled from a whore that was bought and paid for him?" he asked. "This will probably be the first game where none of your ladies will win."

He looked at Jon Dualfang. In spite of all the ladies paying him attention, the bastard did not look like he wished to be there. He kept himself reserved and answered in short answers, always using his manners. Aegon had thought that was his way of flirting with them. But now, it was beginning to look like something else entirely. As he watched, he noticed something. Out of all the ladies, it seemed that the bastard talked the most favorably with his sister.

"Prince Aegon," Robb Stark said to him, "I will not let my brother be harmed."

It was an odd thing to say but he could see how the direwolves were close to the bastard, more so than before. They were all watching the ladies like they were potential threats. "I won't harm him, my lord."

"It's not you I'm worried about."

His eyes found Mya Stone, who sat close to Rhaenys with another pitcher in her hand. Jocelyn Sand sat next to her. They were the only two who weren't talking to Jon Dualfang. Jocelyn was more interested in talking to Domeric Bolton. Mya was the same as she was this morning, only moving to serve wine. Soon, she stood up and started walking away. "If you'll excuse me," he said to Robb and Theon, standing up and leaving. As he left the woods, Margaery seemed to be watching him. He didn't care.

His pace was quick to reach her in the woods. "Mya," he called out.

She stopped and looked back. "Prince Aegon," she said in her practiced tone. "You should really stop running after me in the forest. People will start to get ideas."

He knew it might be true, but he didn't care. "I wanted to talk to you about this morning."

"There's nothing to talk about, your Highness."

"Yes, there is." He stepped closer to her. She didn't try to flee. "I know what you said was the truth. I also know it wasn't the complete truth. You did have something to say to my family. You had something to say to me."

She shook her head. "I didn't."

"You did. When I think about it now, I don't blame you. I was horrible to you when we were children. You could have turned your anger against me when you had the chance in there."

"I couldn't, not since I said that I had nothing against your house."

He knew that was true but it didn't mean what he had to say didn't matter. He took another step closer. They were in arms reach of each other but he did not take it any further. "Whether you didn't say it or not, it's still the truth. I was horrible to you." He had tormented her, called her terrible names and many other things. He had done all of these things because he thought it was natural. He was the son of Rhaegar and she was the daughter of Robert. He thought that they would be enemies and it was best to act first. No one had stopped him and he thought that he was in the right.

She looked at him with calm eyes, not showing a hint of the fury that was shown this morning. "I am aware, my prince. It begs the question of why you changed at all."

He reached out and took her hand in a gentle grasp. He rubbed his thumb against her bracer, feeling the coolness of the antler on his skin. "You know why." She had saved him from that stag when she could have let it killed him. She did it at the risk of her own life. When they brought her back to the Red Keep, it had been the only time he had seen Stannis Baratheon absolutely furious. But he started seeing her as Mya, not as Robert's daughter. It was a change that was finished when he realized that she had become a woman. That was when he realized that he had fallen for her.

She looked down at the bracer too. Together, they were silent for a long moment. "Lord Stannis sounded proud of you after you left," he told her.

She jerked her eyes up at him. They were wide with shock and surprise. "He was?"

"Yes. He called you his father come again, a true Baratheon." He watched as tears came to her eyes. But they weren't sorrowful. They were joyful. It baffled him. Why Stannis? He was a hard, cold man. Why was it whenever they were in the same room, she paid the most attention to him. "Mya, why him?" he asked her. "You have Renly as an uncle but you focus on Stannis. Why?"

She wiped away the tears. "I thought that he was my father when he came with the king to the Eyrie. But when he looked at me, saw that I was only a bastard, and told me that he was only my uncle, I was heartbroken. Ever since then, I've done all that I could to prove to him that I was more than what he first thought."

It made a weird sort of sense to him. But the question still plagued. "But why Stannis?" he asked. "He's a hard and harsh sort of man."

"He's only that sort of man because he cares. Lord Tyrell sees what is his as his rights. Lord Stannis sees what is his as his responsibilities. He does his duty to the Stormlands as their liege lord. Most people can't be bothered to look past what they first see to find the caring man that he is."

"You admire him."

A sorrowful laugh escaped her lips, something that he had never heard from her. "I do. If I could ask one thing from the gods, it would be to make me a child of Stannis Baratheon instead of Robert."

She looked so sad, so vulnerable. He knew what he was doing before his body was even moving. He stepped in close and pulled her into a hug. She didn't resist him as he held her in her arms. In fact, he felt his tunic turning wet from her tears. He didn't care. He was glad that he could be there to hold her like this, to give her comfort. He hoped that it would show her just how much he loved her.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

And there is the second punch, courtesy of Mya. That was something they never expected. It's a wonder that they were surprised when they told her to let loose. Although I think the real kicker was when the baby Sand Snakes threw their big sisters under the proverbial bus. They certainly weren't expecting that.

As odd as it might sound, but Stannis is the closest thing that Mya has to a father. She's never really met Robert and Renly is more like a child in a man's body. Who else is she to look for inspiration?

I'll see you all next chapter!


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 24: Jon

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

Jon Snow watched from the grounds as the melee raged on. Sam, Edd, and Quentyn were beside him. They were all cheering for their own favorite person in the melee. Jon could see Jack Mormont make steady progress through any and all of the fighters who came at him. "Come on, Jack!" he called out.

"Your friend seems to be doing well," Quentyn said to him.

"Aye, he is. Jack's a terror with an axe in his hand. He does Lord Jorah proud."

"And his mother is fraught with worry, I'm sure," Edd added.

Jon froze at those words. It was a subject that the Pack never brought up. "She died giving birth to him," he told Edd. "If there was a woman who raised him, it was his Aunt Maege."

"Ah, I see. Well, there I go again, making things go bad."

"Edd, shouldn't you be rooting for your knight?" Sam asked him. They had never met the knight he was squiring for but he always seemed to have a lot of time to be with them.

"There's no point in doing so," he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "He was defeated within the opening minutes."

"Oh. Did we miss it?" He looked back at the field, like he was trying to see what he was just told.

"I don't think so," Quentyn said with a frown. "Was he the one who charged right at my uncle? Grey plate armor with a dark surcoat?"

"Yes, that would've been him."

"I missed that," Jon said. He had kept his focus on the Northern group. When the fighting began, they had banded together, back brother to back brother, and fought the other men. The group had been whittled away but there was still some of them left.

"You didn't miss much," Edd told him glumly. "He ran right at Ser Lewyn and got brained by a spear's butt for his trouble."

"Ouch."

"That would be putting it mildly."

Quentyn kept his eyes to the field. "It's hard to blame Edd's knight to be defeated so easily. There are a lot of knights who are being beaten today. And it's not only my uncle out there."

Jon knew what he meant by those words. They all did. All seven of the Kingsguard knights were out in the melee. It was a sight that he had never thought he would see. He wondered what it was the king said that convinced to take the field when they were supposed to protect him. He looked to the royal stand and saw only the Hound there amongst the Targaryens. He stood behind the Dowager Queen and Princess Daenerys but it was clear that he was there for them all.

Still, to see the king's seven in the field was an awe-inspiring sight. They seemed to work with perfect cohesion. They never strayed far from each other, always able to come to one's aide if it was needed. Anyone who tried to fight one would quickly find themselves against two or more and were quickly defeated.

"Jon! Jon!" Sam said, shaking his shoulder.

"What?" he asked, turning his attention back to the field. He saw what his friend had seen quickly. Viserys and Prince Aegon were amongst the fighters, their backs to each other. The prince held a sword and shield but Viserys wielded a great sword that was easily the size of him. It had been a gift from House Umber for his nameday two years past. They stood a ways away from the Kingsguard. That was probably something Viserys had done. The two dragons held their own in the field, beating back any who dared try to attack them.

Jon Snow watched Loras Tyrell attack Prince Aegon. The swords moved quickly, striking each other and the shields. The Knight of Flowers seemed determined to defeat the Prince of Dragonstone. But he was so focused that when Viserys swapped places with his nephew, the elder Targaryen surprised the Tyrell and he was made short work. The great sword battered away the shield, knocked the sword out from his hand, and sent him to the ground. He didn't get up and the two dragons stepped away from his prone body.

"Uh, Jon?" said Edd.

"What?" he said. He was still keeping his eyes on the field. Jack was making his way through the other combatants with Asher and Morgan at his sides.

"I don't want you to look right now, but it seems like a lot of the ladies are glaring at you like you are the Stranger amongst us."

It was a strange thing to hear. It prompted Jon to look. A hand clamped down on his shoulder and squeezed almost painfully tight. He looked at who had the hand and saw it was Edd. "What are you doing?"

"What did I just tell you?"

He knew what he had said. It just didn't make any sense to him. "How am I supposed to see their looks if I don't look myself?" he asked Edd.

"You don't."

"Jon, just look slowly," Quentyn told him.

"Does nobody listen to me?" Edd asked no one in particular.

Jon did as the prince told him. He tried to look slowly but he didn't know how to look to the edge of his sight without turning his head. If he moved his head slowly, he might able to do it. Edd's hand didn't get any tighter, so it must mean that he was doing it right. It did seem like that every lady in sight was staring at him like it was he was the foulest thing that had ever walked the Seven Kingdoms. It was the oddest thing.

" _What have I done to earn such hatred?"_ he asked himself. It was even odder since they seem to be the same women who try to talk to him. Perhaps it had something to do with that. He wished that Ghost was by his side. The wolves were always around him now, even more than before.

A sudden roar came from the field, snapping his eyes back to it. The roar came from Ser Jaime and it was in the form of a single word. "Wench!" he cried as he started forward, away from Mark Ryswell.

" _Wench?"_ thought Jon. Why would he say something like that? There wasn't a woman in the yard, was there? He looked to the field and didn't see any women there. If the elder Sand Snakes were still at Riverrun, they would be there. But they weren't and he didn't see anyone that looked like a woman.

But then Jaime Lannister attacked a tall warrior who had just dispatched a knight of House Frey. Their swords met with a clash that seemed to echo in the air. "I've been looking forward to this, wench!" he said over the din.

Jon Snow could not believe his eyes. "That's a woman?" he asked the others. It didn't look like it was a woman.

"It might be?" Sam offered. "Quentyn, do you know?"

"Why do you ask me?" he asked.

He couldn't look the Dornish prince in the eye. "W-well, there are your cousins. I-I thought that you would know a woman fighting would look like."

"Not in full plate. The Snakes were lighter armor than that."

"She's holding her own against the Kingslayer," Jon told them. It was something truly amazing to watch. Then Ser Mark joined them and fought beside the Kingslayer. He was less aggressive than Ser Jaime and the Kingslayer did not seem to want him there. He fought harder against Lady Brienne than Ser Ryswell, almost pushing past him in order to fight her. The odds should have been against her but she held her own against two of the Kingsguard. She used Ser Jaime's aggression against him, getting past his shield and knocking his sword from his hand. She pushed against him to reach Ser Mark, sending him to the ground. The two of them exchanged sword strikes for what seemed a long time. But it was probably only a minute or two before she disarmed him too and knocking him to the ground.

"Fucking hell," Edd swore. He wasn't even melancholic when he uttered the words.

Sam was just as surprised. "By the gods, she did it."

"She's not done yet," Jon Snow told them. She was fighting against a man of the Reach, but it was clear to him that she was looking for something, or someone.

Ser Lewyn and Ser Whent found her next and she attacked them without hesitation. Jon could not look away and it seemed that no one else could either. The rest of the melee seemed to lose their importance as everyone watched her fight two Kingsguard. Unlike the last two, both Ser Lewyn and Ser Whent were able to fight in coordination. If one of them pressed forward, the other would protect his side. But Lady Brienne continued to hold her own against them both. She would attack the attacker for a moment to get past his defense and then attack the defender, pushing him away from the other. She defeated Ser Whent but it cost the shield she carried when Ser Lewyn drove his spear against it. The wood clasped around it and he pulled it off.

She staggered after but she pushed through with her own momentum and crashed into the Dornish knight, knocking him to the ground. She rolled off and struck the spear from his hand. "Yield, ser!" she cried out, holding her sword out him.

He didn't look angry. He looked like he had enjoyed the combat. "I yield, my lady!" he said with a laugh. "You've some skill to defeat four of us. Shall we see if you can hold your own against the three greatest of the Kingsguard?"

She turned around and saw, just as the rest of the grounds saw, Ser Gerold, Ser Arthur, and Ser Barristan the Bold standing before her with their weapons draw. At this point, the rest of the melee combatants stopped and watched what was about to happen. Jon never thought that he would be witnessing something like this. "Get them!" he heard Arya shout out. One quick look to the Stark stand showed his little at the rail, cheering the loudest for Lady Brienne.

"I don't think that she's going to last against them," Edd remarked from beside Jon.

It was a comment that was surprising to the bastard. He looked to his friend. "How can you say that?"

"Look at her, Jon. Fighting the first four Kingsguard took a lot out of her. If she goes up the last three, she'll lose what's left of her strength and fall."

He didn't want to believe it but he looked at her and saw it too. She was beginning to shake in the legs. She had no shield and against the three of them, it would be tantamount to suicide. Probably the best thing she could do at that moment was yield. But Jon knew that she wouldn't. He didn't see her eyes to know that there was a fire in them. He felt the same when he sparred against Ser Arthur. She wanted to prove herself against them.

When she swung her sword into a ready position, he wasn't surprised. The Kingsguard knights did not attack her on. They spread out around her, trapping her in the form of a triangle. She turned in place, trying to watch them all. They didn't move against her. They stood there, watching her. She kept turning and turning, watching them. She gave a loud cry and attacked the Lord Commander.

He met her sword with his own. Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan approached her from behind. She twisted away so all four swords would clash together. She stepped away so hers would be free. She suddenly dropped down and swung her sword underneath theirs, going for their torsos. She was able to hit a glancing blow on Ser Arthur before they broke the lock and faced her again. She came up in a spin, twisting her sword up into a strike from above. It caught Ser Barristan's sword against the metal, forcing down and leaving him open.

She pressed the attack but Ser Gerold and Ser Arthur halted her advance. They kept up their attack, forcing her away from Ser Barristan. He was able to recover his position and joined their attack. It lasted for another two minutes but to Jon, those minutes lasted longer. He watched her try to hold her own against them but she was getting more tired as it dragged on.

It ended as he had expected. Lady Brienne had fallen to her knee, her helmet knocked off her head, and their swords were poised to stab her through. For a second, nothing happened on the field. "That move you did," Ser Gerold said to her, "That spinning strike, there's only one person I know of who knew it. Who taught it to you, my lady?"

She looked up at him. She seemed to be surprised that the Lord Commander spoke to her. She found her voice and said, "My father, ser."

"Name him."

"Selwyn Tarth, the Evenstar and Lord of Tarth," she declared.

The White Bull did not look surprise at the name. "And he learned it from his grandfather, no doubt."

"So he said."

He looked to Ser Barristan and then at Ser Arthur. What he did next was a surprise. He lowered his sword, stepped away from Lady Brienne, and looked to the king. "Your Grace. I yield."

"As do I," Ser Barristan said too.

Ser Arthur lowered his sword. "I yield as well."

Jon Snow was thunderstruck and he saw that everyone else was too. But none were so shocked than Brienne. She stared at the three Kingsguard with disbelief shining through her eyes. Jon looked to the royal stand as the king rose. "Why do you yield, Lord Commander?" he asked.

"I wish to see how the descendent of Ser Duncan the Tall fares."

Jon wasn't the only one who stared as the three Kingsguard left the field and Lady Brienne got back to her feet. He was still trying to understand the idea that Ser Duncan the Tall had had children. How was that possible? He had been one of the Kingsguard. They couldn't marry or hold lands. "How is this possible?" he asked the others.

"Perhaps Ser Duncan married into House Tarth?" Sam offered up as a suggestion.

"But how did he end up in the Kingsguard?"

Edd had the answer. "His wife must have died," he told them all, "Most likely in childbirth." They watched Lady Brienne got back to her feet. She lifted her sword out of the ground and looked at the remaining combatants.

Quentyn nodded in agreement. "He has the right of it. If I was to guess, I would that Ser Duncan's goodbrother or goodfather kept the child and told him that since she was dead he had no ties to their family before telling him to get out."

"Why do you say that?" Sam asked him.

He watched as one of the melee combatants charged at Lady Brienne with a shout, raising his sword up high. "It's common in Dornish love stories." His voice was distant and distracted. Jon couldn't doubt him. He too was watching Lady Brienne fight against the rest. Before long, both Jack Mormont and Ser Daemon Sand fought their way to her side and fought alongside her. Both Prince Aegon and Viserys looked eager to test themselves against her. He could see the surprise in her eyes at such a thing but she didn't stop. She simply raised her sword and continued to fight.

* * *

That night, after the melee and another round of jousting, came the last night of the singing competition. As Jon Snow had thought, Domeric had held his own against other bards and singers. Now he stood as one of the two finalists before the king. The other finalist, a man from the Stormlands, played first. Jon Snow thought that he was passable but he also knew that Dom would beat him.

When the singer finished his song, he received polite clapping from the people in the hall. As he bowed to them and stepped away, the king rose from his seat. "And what do you have to play for us, my lord Bolton?" he asked.

Domeric stepped forward with his harp. "A song of my own make, your Grace," he said. "You could call it a romantic song, but not one of great love between people that you would normally hear. I would say that this is about a single moment between two people in one night."

Jon did not need to look to see that Jocelyn's would be bright red. It was no secret that she had feelings for Dom, just like he for her. He heard Dom work on this song before. He was interested to hear the final version of it. So he listened as Dom strummed the harp and began to sing.

 _Love me one more time,  
Make this night last forever,  
For on the morrow, I leave for battle-_

 _I may survive,  
And I shall return to you,  
But come the morrow, I leave for battle-_

 _And if I die, just remember I love you,  
And you'll always be mine,  
Let us warm up this cold night together,  
Come the morrow, I leave for battle-_

 _Until tomorrow,  
Let me love you forever,  
For come the morrow, I leave for battle- _

_Until tomorrow,  
Let me love you forever,  
For come the morrow, I leave for battle-_

 _And if I die, just remember I love you,  
And you'll always be mine,  
Let us warm up this cold night together,  
Come the morrow, I leave for battle-_

 _Yes, tomorrow I leave for battle._

As he finished his song, he put down the harp and looked out to the hall. Some people might have thought that he was looking for the applause that was to come. But Jon Snow knew who he was looking for. When he found Jocelyn, sitting close to the Stark table but not close enough, he smiled.

The silence was finally broken with mass amount of clapping, both from the Northerners and, surprisingly enough, from the remaining Dornish too. Perhaps they were able to appreciate the music too? Jon thought that would be a nice thing. In spite of what happened, he did not blame the Dornish as a whole for what happened. His lord father had taught better than that.

The king clapped too and the rest of the hall did too. "Very well sang, Lord Domeric," he said. "I would say that you are the winner of this competition." He looked to the hall and asked, "What say you all?"

The hall responded with several shouts of "Aye!" and the Northmen were the strongest of the shouters.

"Thank you, my king," Domeric said, bowing his head low. When he raised it back, he did not move from his spot facing the high table. "Your Grace, if I may be so bold, would you play us a song? They have said that you have talent with the harp."

"I do," he replied. "But they did not come here to hear me sing." At that remark, various people in the hall stood up and shouted their protest. Jon Snow could only watch as multiple people asked or begged for the king to sing.

"Please, King Rhaegar," Domeric said to him after the noise managed to die down. "Indulge us, if you would."

The queen leaned to her husband and whispered in his ear. When she was finished and pulled away, there was a sadness in his eyes. "Very well," he said, standing from his seat. "I will play, if I may be able to borrow your harp, Lord Bolton?"

"By all means, your Grace," he said in return, offering it to him.

He walked down from the high table and took his harp. A few moments passed as he tested the strings, twisting the knobs to either tighten them or loosen them. And then, he began to play. As soon as those first notes were strummed and his voice sang, Jon knew what they had said about the king was true.

 _When I am down and oh my soul so weary,  
When troubles come and my heart burdened be.  
Then I am still and wait here in the silence,  
Until you come and sit a while with me._

 _You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains,  
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas.  
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders,  
You raise me up, to more than I can be._

 _You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains,  
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas.  
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders,  
You raise me up, to more than I can be._

 _You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains,  
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas.  
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders,  
You raise me up, to more than I can be._

 _You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains,  
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas.  
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders,  
You raise me up, to more than I can be._

 _You raise me up, to more than I can be._

When the last note ended, silence filled the hall. No one clapped or cheered for the king. Jon Snow would have wondered why it was so, if he didn't feel the wet tears on his cheeks. It was a beautiful song but a sad one. There was a quality to it that made him question if there was someone the king was mourning. He looked to the high table and saw the royal family had tears in their eyes too, none more than the queen. He glanced at Viserys and saw that he had some tears in his eyes. But then he wiped them away.

"Your Grace," said Domeric, his voice as thick as Jon Snow felt. "I am glad that I did not try my skill against yours, for I would have lost."

"Don't be so modest, Lord Domeric," the king said in reply, handing back the harp. "Given time, I'm sure you would be able to match me in singing."

As the hall began to go back to the feast in front of them, Jon Snow felt a pair of angry eyes on him. He looked and saw that it was Robb, staring at him from the Stark table with accusing eyes. He wondered why his brother was staring at him. But then he remembered the small argument they had when the singing competition began. Robb had urged him to join and he had stubbornly refused. He had seen all those who had joined. They had both the voice and the instrument. He had only the voice and could not join.

That was what he told Robb. But in truth, there was another reason why he did not join. It was the same reason that he had not joined any of the competitions of the tourney. He was only here because Robb and Arya had begged and pleaded for him to come along. Lady Stark had made it quite clear to him that she didn't approve of him joining them.

Looking at the Stark table drew the attention of Lady Catelyn. She gave him a stern look that made him look away. His stomach declared that it was done with food and that anymore would not end well. So he stood up from his table and tried to leave as quietly as he could. He decided that he needed to be outside, away from all the smoke and wine. Perhaps a walk on the grounds would be good. He had thought that Pyp said his troupe was playing. He should look into that.

As he left the hall and went through the corridors, his mind turned to the future. The tourney would be ending soon and he would be going back to Winterfell. But what would happen then? Lady Stark had made it quite clear to him that she did not want him in Winterfell. She could not do anything with Lord Stark there but when he passed…? She would probably have him out of the castle before Robb would be able to stop her. It might be best if he got out before that happened, so it would be his choice in the decision.

But the question was, where would he go? His first thought went to the Night's Watch. It was an honorable calling. Men of House Stark had manned it for thousands of years. His own uncle Benjen was First Ranger there. Even a bastard could find honor there. The more he thought about it, the more the idea had merit.

"JON SNOW!" rang out the voice of an irate woman from behind.

He went still and turned around. Lady Tya Lannister stood in front of him, along with many of the ladies who had glared at him during the melee. They stretched back down the corridor. He had a feeling that he was greatly outnumbered and should flee, but what possible reason could he have for fleeing that many women? It would actually be seen as quite cravenly. "Is there something you require, my lady?" he asked Lady Tya, making sure that his voice was courteous and polite.

But she did not look pleased. None of them did. "You are a completely useless, fool of a man!" Lady Tya snapped at him. "You cannot even take the simplest of hints, can you?" She stepped towards him and the rest of them followed her move.

Jon was confused. Not a day past these were the same ladies who were trying their best to get him to talk to them. Now they looked like they wanted to string him up and leave him for the crows. "My lady, I am afraid that I do not understand. If I have offended you, any of you, then I apologize." He meant his words, even though he did not know what exactly was going on.

"You did not offend us," one of the Reach ladies, a Tyrell if he had to guess by her dress's color. "You disappointed us."

One of the Dornish ladies nodded in agreement, something that he never would have thought could happen. "We gave you time after time to prove yourself but you seem unable to understand the basics of hints," she told him.

He was very confused, stepping back. They followed him and somehow, he managed to find himself pressed up against the corridor wall. The stone itched against his back but that was nothing compared to the anger in the ladies' eyes. "What hints, my lady?" he dared to ask.

Lady Tya looked at him with such disgust, disappointment, and loathing in her eyes. "The events, you fool. You were to join one of the events of this tourney and ask one of us for your favor. But you did not join a single one! Not even the singing competition! It makes me wonder if the Northerners are simple and stupid as you if you cannot understand when you are playing the Woman's game!"

The rest of them started shouting too, demanding answers from him. But they sounded distant and so far away. He was shocked by her words, but that shock quickly faded away. A cold anger started to fill his chest. He looked at all the ladies staring at him, condemning him for what he chose not to do. Who were they to decide what he should have done? Did they think because he was a bastard that he would listen to their every word?

His anger grew and grew as he listened to their shouting, their condemning, until it was uncontrollable. "Enough!" he shouted, silencing them all. They reared back from him, stunned that he would speak to them in such a way. He did not stop there. He was too angry. "Who do you think that I am? Do you all think me to be one of the smallfolk that you can command to do your every whim? Did you ask me if I wanted to play this game of yours? No, you just assumed that I would!"

"It's an honor to be chosen!" one of the ladies told him.

He swung his eyes to where the voice had come from. He couldn't see who it was but it didn't matter to him. "It's an honor that I did not ask for! I did not come here to play games. I came to Riverrun to watch and cheer for my family should they compete." He saw the stunned looks on their faces. It just made him angrier. "Is that so hard to believe?" There were plenty of men, both low and highborn, who came to tourneys and not compete in them.

"But why did you not join the competitions?" another lady asked him, her curiosity painting evenly with her fear.

It was a fair question, he could admit to that. It was a question that calmed his anger. He took in a breath and breathed it out too. "I did not join because I was not to shame and embarrass Lady Catelyn."

His reply sparked a resurgence in their anger. They leaned in closer to him again. They probably thought his reason was a foolish. "You wouldn't join because a woman told you that you would bring shame upon her? If there is a fool here it is her!"

The accusation didn't gladden him. Instead, he laughed bitterly. "I shame Lady Stark with every breath that I take! Everywhere step I take is a living testament to the shame I bring upon her and House Stark! I have no wish to inflict further ill-will upon myself, yet you all seem to insist on having me do just that! If you all wish from me is mere entertainment for yourselves, then my ladies, kindly leave me alone!"

His voice fell silent and they looked at him with awe. He didn't want their awe, only to be alone. He went to push pass them and they parted. His eyes did not meet any of their eyes. Only when he was free of them did he dare look up. But Lady Catelyn was there, standing at the end of the corridor. He froze at the sight of her. How long had she been standing there? Did she hear the entire tirade?

There was a hand on his shoulder and when he looked to see who it was, he saw that it was Jocelyn. He was glad to see her. She knew what he felt when it came to Lady Stark. He gave her a smile of thanks before walking past Lady Stark, not saying a word. His feet led him out of the castle but they did not take him to the tourney grounds. Instead, he found himself walking to the godswood. He didn't stop himself. After being told that he was supposed to be playing some sort of game for the ladies, he needed solace.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, the wolves bounded over to him. All six of them wheeled around him, heads butting against his hands. He looked down at them and wondered. Did they really know what was happening from the very beginning? If that was true then they were smarter than he was. He walked over to the heart tree and stared at the face.

Questions began appearing in his head. Why had he been chosen for this supposed game of theirs? Was it just for their amusement? Did they want to see him running around trying to please them all? He guessed that by the way he acted, what he had done was the complete opposite. Yes, he had noticed what they were doing but thought they were only trying to talk to him in order to reach Robb or any of the Pack, even Theon. He had not a clue they were trying to actually talk to him.

The wolves turned their heads back to where he came. He turned to see what their attention and froze. Princess Rhaenys stood there, just by the next tree. He was sure that she had been there when he spoke. Now seeing her here, it made him anger. "Your Highness," he said coldly.

"Jon," she said back. She took a step towards him and the wolves bared their teeth at her. She stopped there but kept her eyes on him.

"Was this all a game to you?" he asked.

She answered, "Not to me."

"But you still played it."

"You call it playing. I call it making sure that you would only see me." She smiled. "After all, I am the one who kissed you."

That smile probably should've made his knees weak. But it only served to make him angrier. "Is that supposed to say you've a lead on them all?" he asked her, his voice biting.

The smile fell off her face. "Jon, I didn't mean it like that."

"How did you mean it?"

She looked at the wolves again, with a frown that was also thoughtful. She took a deep breath and stepped forward again. She walked towards him, ignoring the bared teeth of the wolves and the rumbling growls. She kept walking until she was a step away from them, her eyes locked onto his. "What would be said of a princess who went after a bastard? The Woman's game was the only way that I could have done so."

He froze. "You wanted to come after me? Why?" Now that he was aware of the game, he assumed that she had gone after him because she wanted the same as the others.

"Because you're different," she told him. "I've been a part of many Women's games and each time I've played it, our selected man has always known he's been selected. But you, you did not know. You offered something, something different. You are honest, Jon Snow. You are willing to be humiliated in public sparring because your opponent was your social better. You are willing to not join any of the events in this tourney because you know that it will draw attention to you and that will make Lady Stark angry."

She stopped for a moment. She seemed sad. Jon wondered why she was. He had done nothing to make her so. She spoke again. "You also forbid yourself from having a woman because you are afraid that you will sire another bastard and he will suffer the same as you. You accept the life you have been given but you also wish that you could have a better one."

He was shocked that she knew such things about him. "How could you…?" he tried to ask her, but the words failed him.

She smiled again and his anger faded at it. "I've seen you in the moonlight, Jon Snow," she told him, stepping closer. The wolves didn't growl anymore but he could see their teeth were still showing. "When I first saw you there, I could remember something my father had always told me but didn't see until then. You were like nothing I had seen before then. When I saw you again drenched in moonlight, I saw the sorrow and anguished you were hiding from everyone."

"I'm hiding nothing," he retorted swiftly.

"But you are," she said to him. "It reached me, Jon. I saw you, standing at the riverbank, and I wanted to go out to you. I wanted to take hold of you and never let you go."

She braved those last few steps to him and the wolves parted for her, their teeth gone from sight. She stepped close to him, her eyes never straying from his. He found that he could not look away from hers either. She leaned in for a kiss, but he tilted his away. It was only by a few inches but he might as well have turned his face from her completely. "We can't," he told her.

She reached out and pushed his face back to hers. "Why?" she asked.

There were many reasons why. Could she not see them? Perhaps, he figured, it was best to ask her a simple question. "Do you love me or just want me?"

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she fell silent and thought about it. "It was want at first. But now, now I believe it to be love." She looked up at him, her dark eyes challenging. "Tell me you don't feel the same."

He saw her. He saw how beautiful she was. Despite what she might have seemed to others, he could tell that she was kind and gentle, if not a bit demanding and strong-minded. It seemed like she was the middle ground between Sansa and Arya. But even if she was those things, even if he could not disagree, he knew what the future would bring: nothing. "What will happen after the tourney?" he asked her.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what will happen to us if I say yes? When the tourney is over, you will go back to King's Landing and I will go back to Winterfell. We would never see each other again." Saying those words out loud hurt more than he thought possible. But it was still the truth and he had to face it.

"What if we ran away?" she asked.

He looked at her incredulously. "Princess, I do not think that you would even think of such a thing. Where would we go? There would be men out hunting for you as soon as you disappeared. We would live on the run, with nothing but the clothes on our backs."

"We would have each other." There was a stubborn note to her voice and her face. She seemed determined to go through with this madness.

But he would not let her. "Princess—"

"Rhaenys," she told him. "My name is Rhaenys."

"Princess Rhaenys—"

"No," she said stubbornly again. "Don't say 'your Highness,' and don't say 'Princess Rhaenys.' Just call me by my name."

He wanted to. Gods above, he wanted to. But if he did, it would mean something that couldn't be. He couldn't let it be so. "Princess, it would not work. You are a part of the royal family. You have been surrounded by luxury and privilege. You deserve someone who will be able to keep you happy and content, not worrying if you will have to scavenge for your next meal or sell something else to keep going. That person isn't me. Please, for the sake of us both let it end here."

She was silent for a long moment. Jon wondered if she was accepting the facts or trying to find a way around them. She stepped in close to him and hugged him tight, her arms around his neck. It was a move he didn't expect and he went still for a moment. When he unfroze, he reached up to take her hands off. "Don't," she told him, her head resting on his shoulder. "Just let me have this, please."

He complied, lowering his hands. They didn't fall to his sides but instead to the small of her back, interlocking and holding there. They stood in the godswood, like forbidden lovers who could only meet in the light of the moon. It was a nice thought and so romantic it would make Sansa happy. But he knew it couldn't be what Sansa wanted. This would be the only he would hold Rhaenys and only for this night. That was it, there nothing he could do to change it. All he could do was enjoy the moment, enjoy the feeling of holding her tight and smelling her hair. In that moment, he felt content.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

Alright, so Jack was the only child of Jorah's first wife. I figure that he had a son he would focus more on raising him right and less on finding another wife. That is why he's still the Lord of Bear Island and no actual mention of the Bitch from Hightower.

We've all guessed it, I've just going to come out and say it: Brienne is descended from Ser Duncan the Tall. And it is probably unrealistic that she would fight against all seven of the Kingsguard, but I tried to be careful. She didn't fight them all at the same time, and she didn't win against them.

The first song is by Heather Alexander and the second actually has multiple versions. Admittedly, I think that Rhaegar would sing _You raise me up_ like the Josh Groban version. But I've always preferred the Celtic Women version. Listen to the two versions and let me know what you think.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 25: Jocelyn

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

Jocelyn followed her mother into the room and saw Lady Catelyn sitting there. Her first thought was that she came to speak about Jon and last night. She had never seen her brother snap like that, to anyone. But the ladies who were playing the game had driven him to a corner, so to speak. She just hadn't thought Lady Catelyn would be there.

"Lady Stark," Mother said as they came into the room. "Thank you for seeing us."

"Lady Dayne," Lady Catelyn said politely. There was a slight frown on her face, like she didn't want to be there.

Both mother and daughter sat down at the table. Jocelyn's mother sat opposite of Lady Catelyn while she sat between them. She watched the two of them facing each other. It was almost like they were completely opposites. Her mother relaxed into the chair, her dark hair falling freely down her back, and wearing a small warm smile. Lady Catelyn sat properly in her chair, her red hair done up in a bun, and looked impassively at them both. Jocelyn knew that if it was only her in the room, the look would just be saying that she didn't her in the room.

The silence dragged on until Jocelyn could not take it anymore. "Mother," she said, "what are we doing here?"

Her mother looked at her, her eyes sad oddly enough. "We're here about you, Jocelyn."

"Me?" she repeated, looking back at Lady Catelyn. "Is this about last night?"

"No," Lady Stark said to her. "It is not."

"What happened last night?" Mother asked, her eyes narrowing into a dangerous look.

But she was not afraid. "The young ladies playing the game cornered Jon Snow. They were angry he did not compete in the tourney. It did not turn out the way they expected."

"He did not compete?"

Jocelyn nodded her head. "Not in a single one. They were quite angry at him for his refusal." Her eyes found Lady Stark as she spoke. She wondered what the older woman was thinking about what happened.

Her mother's chuckle stopped her wondering and turned her attention back to her. "I'm not surprised," she said. "Ned's brothers practically had to bully him into joining the brawl." She smiled, almost as if she was seeing the memory play out.

"Lady Dayne, is there something you required of me?" Lady Catelyn asked. "Or did you ask me here so you could reminiscence about my lord husband."

She lost the smile and settled into the chair properly. "I came here to set the record straight, Lady Stark. You deserve the truth and I doubt that your husband told you it."

"What truth?"

"So he didn't. Damn that man. Damn that stupid, honor-bound," she tried to sound irritated and angry as she spoke but it all seemed to be an effort that didn't last long, "sweet, considerate, wonderful man," she finished with a small smile.

But Lady Catelyn just looked even more displeased. "Lady Dayne, if all are you going to do is slander my husband—"

"I do not slander him, Lady Stark. I praise him," she rebuked her, her voice becoming harder and her smile disappearing. The last time Jocelyn had seen her like that, she had been told she was going north and protested vigorously.

Her mother lost the anger and started again. "At Harrenhal, you know that we played the game for Eddard Stark and I won. But that night, when I went to claim my prize, he refused me. I was shocked and angry. No one had ever refused me before. I called him craven and fool. I demanded why he would refuse such a thing." There were small tears in her eyes and a bitter smile on her lips. "He told me that he respected me too much to ruin my honor like this. I was astounded that a man would refuse me for the sake of my honor even when we both knew how he watched me during the days before.

"I felt ashamed of what I was trying to do and left his rooms. But as I left, the shame turned into embarrassment and anger. The next morning, I knew I would be found out for not having slept with him and I would be mocked." She sighed, almost seemingly in sadness. "Then I met his brother out in the corridors and an idea came to me, something that felt spiteful to the man we have played for."

Lady Stark's eyes were wide, almost comically so. "Are you saying…?"

She nodded gravely. "I am."

Jocelyn was very confused. She looked back and forth at the two women sitting at the table. She wanted to know what they were talking about for it seemed the conversation had taken a turn that she didn't understand. "Mother, what is this all about?" she asked.

She looked at her with a sad expression. "Oh, Jocelyn," she said, "My lovely little star. It's about you, you and your father."

"My father?" she repeated. That made no sense. The three of them knew who her father was. Lady Stark had despised her for it ever since she came to Winterfell. "My father is Lord Eddard Stark." She spoke with the conviction of knowing that she was right.

But her mother shook her head sadly. "No, he isn't. Your father was his brother, Brandon Stark."

Jocelyn went still as her notion of the world came crashing down. She wasn't the daughter of Eddard Stark? How could this be? It couldn't be true. It had to be a falsehood. But why would her mother play such an elaborate trick on her? It wasn't even a funny one! She had to be lying!

And yet…?

And yet, when she actually thought about, Lord Stark had never actually called himself her father. He had always said that she was of his blood. She had taken it to mean that was his way of saying he was her father without actually saying the words. But what if it hadn't been? What if he said the literal thing? The more she thought about it, the more it made a funny sort of sense. And as that made more sense, the words she had heard just now set themselves in stone.

Eddard Stark was not her father.

Eddard Stark was not her father!

The air she breathed in would not come out. She could not breathe. Her vision started to blurred. She began to panic inside. _"Am I dying?"_ she asked herself. Was it possible to die from learning such a shocking thing? But even as she wondered, she immediately refused to believe such a notion. She was not dying from a shock. It was probably more likely that she was about to faint.

The notion of that happening was absolutely stupid. _"I am not going to faint from this!"_ she declared to herself. She was not some soft-hearted lady. She was a child of Dorne! She forced herself to breath normally. Her vision cleared and she started to hear voices. With a start, she realized that her mother was talking to her.

"Jocelyn. Jocelyn! Are you alright?" she asked.

"I'm fine, Mother. I'm just…shocked." It probably understated what she was feeling at that moment, but it was also the best description she could find. She was shocked by this news. She wondered how Lord Stark could lie to her like this.

"Why would he do this?" Lady Stark asked. She looked just as surprised. "Why would Ned lie to me about this? Why would he let me believe this farce?"

Jocelyn felt anger at being called a farce. But then she realized that Lady Stark must have been talking about the situation, not her. It was a small comfort but it did nothing to sooth her hurt feelings. She didn't speak but her mother did. "I suspect that he did it because of you, my lady."

"Me? What do you mean by that?"

Mother was solemn. "I remember you at Harrenhal, Lady Stark. You looked at Brandon with such admiration and love. Eddard must have seen the same thing and did not want to deprive you of what you thought you might have had."

Lady Stark opened her mouth but then closed it. She stayed silent for a long moment before finally saying, "What do you want me to do with this?" she asked.

"It is yours to handle with, Lady Stark. I had thought that Eddard had told you the truth when Jocelyn came to Winterfell. It was a truth that you deserved to know."

She was silent again. She turned her head to look at Jocelyn. There was a new look in her eyes now. It wasn't the one that Jocelyn had gotten used to from her. "Jocelyn—"

"Please, Lady Stark," Jocelyn said, stopping her before she could begin. "Don't talk about this with me, not now. I still need time to fully understand this. I think it would be best if we had this conversation back in Winterfell, with my lord…uncle in attendance." Gods, how hard it was to say such a simple word.

"Yes," she said with a nod. "You are correct."

"Then, if you will pardon me, I will take my leave." She stood up from the table. "Good day, Lady Stark, Mother." She left the room without another word to the other two women at either of them.

But even so, her mind was still trying to understand what she was had just learned. She was the bastard daughter of Brandon Stark, not Eddard Stark. What did that mean for her exactly? Did it mean her position in Winterfell had changed? Since she was the eldest child of the firstborn son, she could technically have a claim to Winterfell and the North. But she stopped herself from even considering that idea because it was completely foolish.

She would only have a claim under Dornish law and Winterfell was not in Dorne. There was also the fact that she was a bastard and a daughter of Brandon Stark. If she tried to make a claim, she would be laughed out of the North. And besides, she would not do that to Robb or any of the other Starks. They were family.

As she went through the corridors, she ran into Jon Snow. "Jocelyn," he greeted her warmly, as family ought to do.

"Jon," she greeted just as warmly. Her eyes fell to the space where Ghost should've been for a second. She looked back up at him. "Are you alright?"

"I am fine. Why do you ask?"

"Well, there was that little scene last night…?"

His eyes widened slightly at what she was saying but then they fell back into their normal position. "Oh, that," he said shortly.

"Are you alright?" she asked him. Despite what it might look like to others, she did care for him. They were siblings, part of the same pack. They looked out for each other. She had seen the ladies leaving the hall to go after last night and had tried to reach him first, only to fail.

"I am fine, Joce. I…I just wish that I had some warning ahead of time."

She couldn't help but giggle at that. "Jon, the whole point of the Woman's game is not to let the man know he's been selected for it, not if he's unaware. It's half the fun, so I've been told."

"It could harm someone," he told her. "And have they ever considered what would happen after the game was done? What if the man had fallen in love with the woman he chose?"

She didn't laugh. He was serious about what he was talking about. She could see it in his face. Truth be told, she hadn't given it much thought. She had never played the Woman's game before going to Winterfell, having only heard about it from the older ladies of the court. But they had never talked about something like that. "I don't know," she admitted.

"This isn't a good game, Joce. If I had known about it, I would have refused to play it at the start."

"You were already doing that when you refused to participate in the competitions. I had never seen the ladies so irritated before." She thought about what happened last night after he walked away from them. The whispering and talking had sprung up almost instantly. She would have thought that his outburst would turn them against him even more but it was the opposite. "You should know that the ladies still consider the game to be on."

His face went pale at those words. "What?"

She nodded. "They seem more determined to win you before we leave."

He shook his head rapidly in denial. "This cannot go on, Joce. It has to stop."

"Would you like to tell them that?" she asked him dryly. "That's probably only going to make them even more insistent. It would be best if you keep Ghost close by."

"Aye, I've been told that already by Bran. Ghost is not the only one who's been keeping watch."

She was surprised by what he was saying. "All of them?" He nodded. She looked back down at the space the direwolf was but also saw air and floating dust. An old envy filled her heart as she kept looking at the space. When the wolves had been brought back to Winterfell, she had counted them and when she reached only six, she had been confused. Then she had been angry and jealous. It was a feeling that wouldn't leave her, only lower its head before rising back up again.

Jon saw her gaze. He looked down at the same space. "Joce, what's the matter?"

She tore her sight from the spot and looked at him again. "Were there only six wolves, Jon?" she asked him.

He became grim and somber. He nodded and said, "There were. When I found Ghost, I thought there was one more. So did Robb. We spent thirty minutes looking everywhere for a seventh wolf but we didn't find one. I'm sorry."

She had heard the answer many times before. But each time, it wasn't a comfort. But now, she wondered if it was because she wasn't a child of Eddard Stark and only they received the direwolves. It made no sense to her but how was she to argue with fate? "I'll see you later, Jon," she told him. "Will you be attending the joust?"

"OF course I will. Robb's in the final round."

They both grinned. All of the southron lords and knight hadn't thought that a Northman would be able to joust this well. Not only had Robb proved them wrong, but he was on the verge of winning the joust. She wondered who he would crown as the Queen of Love and Beauty but she was more concerned about the joust first and foremost. "Then I'll see you there."

* * *

As the joust went on, Jocelyn sat in the royal box alongside Rhaenys. She paid barely any attention to the joust unless it was Robb at the tilt. She was still thinking about the fact Brandon Stark was her father. When the others learned about it, what would happen? What would Lord Stark say?

"Is everything alright, Jocelyn?" the princess asked quietly.

"Yes, Princess," she replied absently.

Rhaenys looked at her. "Are you sure?"

She looked back at her friend. "Yes, I…received some news earlier today."

"What news?"

She paused in her talk. She thought about what would come if she mentioned her true parentage. It could do harm to both of her parents' houses if revealed at the wrong time. The only way she saw any good coming of it was if it was her mother or Lord Stark who revealed the truth. "Just something from my mother," she finally said. She could see that Rhaenys was not happy with the answer and was about to ask again. So she asked first, "Where did you go last night, your Highness? After my brother left you all in the corridor?"

"Nowhere of importance," she replied instantly, trying to look interested in the jousting.

That alone told Jocelyn more than she wanted. "I didn't realize you considered my brother to be nothing of importance."

Rhaenys looked back at her. She tried to hide it, but there was surprise in her eyes. "How did you know?"

"I just did," she said. "You went after Jon, didn't you?"

Once she was revealed that she was lying, she didn't bother to try it again. "Of course I did. Do you think that I would have given up such a chance?"

"No. Did anything happen?" She thought back to what she and Jon talked about hours before. Now she was hoping that nothing had come of their meeting.

"Some things did happen."

"What are 'some things'?"

She frowned slightly. "Why are you asking me these questions, Jocelyn?"

Jocelyn heard the silent threat in her voice. But she wasn't scared. She was protective. "He's my brother, Rhaenys. I don't want to see him get hurt."

The frown vanished and when she spoke, the threat was gone too. "He said as much too in the godswood. Convinced me that the two of us could never happen, that it was best to leave it be before anything came of it." She sounded a bit regretful as she spoke, looking out at the lists with a mournful look.

"It sounds like Jon did the honorable thing," she remarked, "As well as the right one."

"This is the final joust! Ser Loras Tyrell and Robb Stark take your positions!" the herald announced suddenly.

Jocelyn turned her attention to the lists immediately. She saw her…cousin at one end of the yard. As before, he wore armor of plated steel that had a color of Northern storm clouds. It was a plain suit that was meant for the battlefield. The armor of the Knight of the Flowers wore, on the other hand, seemed completely ostentatious by comparison. She had never seen a suit so enameled with gems and flowers. She wondered if he was actually wearing any sort of armor there.

He sat his horse confidently and had his lance at the ready, but Jocelyn had her doubts. "Is he actually any good?" she asked the princess.

She looked at Jocelyn like she had just said something foolish. "Of course he is. Ser Loras is regarded as one of the best lance arms in the Seven Kingdoms."

But she scoffed at that. "I'm sure they said the same thing about his sword arm. Then Jon came and knocked him on his arse without breaking a sweat." She remembered the fight in the training yard. Ser Loras had been so swaggering confident, so sure that he would be able to beat Jon. It didn't take ten minutes before Jon had disarmed him and knocked him down to the ground.

She turned her attention to where the Starks were sitting. Lady Catelyn was watching with worry, not pride. But her children were all at the rail, cheering for Robb. The only one who wasn't was Sansa. She sat with a red rose in hand and looking uncertain as to who to cheer for. Jocelyn realized immediately why it was so and it made her angry. "Now that's just low, even for a knight," she declared.

"What do you mean, Jocelyn?" Rhaenys asked, looking her way to see what the matter was.

"That," she said, pointing to Sansa. "That's just low of Ser Loras."

"What, the rose?"

"Aye, the rose," she agreed with a nod.

"It's just a rose. There's no harm in it."

"It is harm when the girl thinks that life is a song full of gallant knights and fair maidens. Sansa is that kind of girl." She saw Sansa look her way and raised a questioning eyebrow. Sansa looked embarrassed but still held onto the rose. Jocelyn looked at her for a second longer before turning her head slightly to look at Prince Viserys, who was sitting next to his brother and sister. She followed her gaze, realized who she was looking at, and promptly dropped the rose. _"Much better,"_ Jocelyn thought in victory.

The herald waved his flag and the two jousters raced down the lists towards each other. Jocelyn's heart was in her throat as she watched Robb smash his lance against Ser Loras' shield. They both stayed in their saddles and took their places, taking new lances in hand. They charged at each other, smashing against their shields again.

They did this two more times. They were swaying in their saddles, Robb a little more than Ser Loras. _"Come on, Robb,"_ Jocelyn thought as her…cousin took another lance in hand. _"You can beat him."_

The herald raised his flag once more but screaming suddenly erupted from the end of the yard. She turned her head that way and saw people running from something. "What is it?" she asked, standing up to get a better view.

The people who standing at the end to see the joust parted ways as five men were circling around someone, swords bared and swinging around. But whoever they were fighting was able to hold them off. They didn't seem to know where they were going as they fought. She looked at who they were fighting but she couldn't who it was. She tried hard to look at them. When she got a glimpse, her eyes widened. "Is that—?"

"Jon!" Robb shouted out, dropping his lance and shield. He threw himself off his horse and shouted, "Get me a sword!" at his squire.

"Lord Stark, return to your horse at once!" the herald shouted at him. But he was already running towards, grabbing the sword his square held out for him. He pulled it free from the scabbard and threw himself at the five men, bashing against one of them with his shoulder, knocking him to the ground, and joining Jon in the middle.

Jon saw him coming and instantly turned his back. They stood back to back, swords at the ready. "Nice of you to join, Stark," he said over the din of fighting, almost conversationally so..

"What happened here, Snow?" Robb asked back, fending a sword strike.

"I'll tell you later."

"Is that one of the Redwyne twins?" Princess Rhaenys asked. Jocelyn looked at what she was seeing, the man that Robb had knocked down. It was one of the Redwyne twins. She could tell by his orange hair. But she couldn't tell which one of the twins it was. He got back up and joined the fight, alongside his twin. More men were coming from outside the jousting yard, swords bared too. They seemed intent on joining the fight.

"Quentyn!" shouted Queen Elia. Both Jocelyn and Rhaenys whipped their heads to see Prince Quentyn leap over the railing of the royal stand, somehow managing to have a spear in his hand. As he raced across the yard, he was joined by Ser Daemon Sand and Ser Archibald Yronwood. Another man, Jocelyn didn't know his name but knew that he had been a part of Jon's group, joined them as did two people from the smallfolk crowd. Suddenly, the fighting looked much more even-footed.

She saw the king moving from the corner of her eye. "STOP THIS FIGHTING AT ONCE!" he shouted with such a fury and intensity, she had thought that he was an actual dragon.

The fighting stopped instantly when Jon's group knelt to the ground. The Redwyne twins and their men tried pressing the advantage but they saw that all eyes were on them. They lowered their weapons and moved away, probably hoping that distance will lessen whatever punishment they get. Robb and the others slowly stood up and looked at the royal stand. Some of them looked directly at the king, others lowered their eyes.

Suddenly, Jocelyn heard the queen gasp in surprise. "Lyanna," she whispered.

" _What?"_ she thought, turning her head to look at Queen Elia. She was looking right at the field, at Jon as he stood there, a sword in each hand.

The king was looking at Jon too. His eyes were alight with confusion, pain, and…realization? Jon must have seen how the king looked at him. "Your Grace, forgive me," he said. "I did not mean to—"

The king turned his head to House Stark and now his eyes were ablaze with fury. "Lady Stark, what is the meaning of this!?" he demanded.

Lady Catelyn stood up. "Your Grace, I can assure that I do not know why this fight happened," she began.

"I don't speak about the fight! I speak about him!" He pointed at Jon. "Why does House Stark have Lyanna's son? Why do you have my son?"

Jocelyn felt her stomach drop at such an accusation. Silence followed the king's proclamation and she saw shocked looks all around. But none were more shocked than both Lady Catelyn and Jon. The only difference was that Jon looked more horrified.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

I don't think I need to explain anything, right?

By the way, I've seen the new _Power Rangers_ movie and an idea came to me: Powers Rangers in _Game of Thrones._ It sounds ridiculous, I know. But take out the whole acting as a team bit while shelving the Zords, give a ranger for each kingdom and you've got something. Think about it, Jaime "the Kingslayer" Lannister, Lion Ranger!

I'll see you all next chapter!


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 26: Rhaella

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverrun)

"Your Grace, this is insane," Lady Stark protested as she stood across from the king. Rhaella stood quietly in the corner, watching her son and his wife face down Lady Stark. She only had to tilt her eyes to see that the Kingsguard who had been there when Lyanna died guarded the room in silence.

Rhaegar looked harshly at her. Since the tiltyard, they moved to a more private area so that they could talk. Rhaella knew that her son would want to demand an answer from Lady Stark when he came into the room. Elia had followed him in, looking almost as mad. It was a look that surprised Rhaella. "Are you saying that I am a fool, Lady Catelyn?" Rhaegar asked her.

She must've seen where she was going because she instantly said, "I did not say that you were a fool, King Rhaegar. But this claim, that Jon Snow is your son, it cannot be so."

"And why is that?"

"Because he is my husband's bastard," she explained. "He was brought to Winterfell with my husband when he returned from the south."

"From Dorne," Elia said her voice seemingly calmer than Rhaegar's. Rhaella wasn't fooled. When she was truly angry, Elia was very much like her brother. "Where Lyanna had been hidden away."

Lady Stark fell quiet. She looked as if she was trying to find a reason that would dispel what they were convinced. "I had thought that he was Lady Ashara's son."

"If Ashara had given birth to him, she would not have hesitated to claim him, just like she had claimed her own daughter."

"The only time she attempted to contact Winterfell was when she had sent Jocelyn to us."

"It does not change the fact that she would have claimed Jon as her son if he was hers. He is not." Both she and Rhaegar would not back down from that claim.

But Lady Stark was firm. "How is it you think that Jon is your son, my king? He has the look of the North on him."

"He wields two swords," Rhaegar answered. He made it sound like it made all the difference in the world.

She looked like she couldn't believe that was his answer. "So does Ser Arthur," she protested, tilting her head to the Sword of the Morning. "When I saw Jon Snow first hold a sword in each hand, I remember Ser Arthur's skill at Harrenhal and thought it to be even more proof that he was Ashara Dayne's bastard."

"My lady," Ser Arthur said quietly. "It is true that I am gifted with a skill with two swords. But so was Lyanna Stark. I've seen her skill myself at the Tower of Joy, when I entertained her request for a little spar. There is no doubt in my mind that Jon Snow is her son."

She shook her head in denial. "No, it's no possible." Rhaella wondered why she was trying so hard to deny the possibility.

Elia eyed Lady Catelyn. "How is it not possible, Lady Stark?" she asked. "Is this not what you would have wanted to hear? That Jon Snow is not your husband's bastard?" It was a well-known fact that Lady Stark did not approve of her husband's bastards. If no one knew of it before this tourney, they did now.

"That is not the point, your Grace. My lord husband is Jon Snow's father." It must have galled her to say such words but she still said them.

"He is not," she insistent.

It was odd to Rhaella to see Elia defend a boy who was potentially her husband's bastard. It might because she was Dornish, but there was something else to it. She was acting like a mother trying to protect her children. Why? The bastard wasn't hers. "My husband is an honorable man," Lady Stark said stubbornly. "He would not steal another man's babe."

"Would he take his sister's child from his rightful family?" Rhaegar asked her, "Out of spite for losing the war? I'd say that he would."

"He wouldn't."

" _If there was ever a time for Lord Stark to be here, it would be now,"_ the Dowager Queen thought to herself. Perhaps this was why he refused to leave Winterfell. If he had come south, he might have been forced to reveal the truth.

"My king," Ser Gerold said in a quiet rumble, "There is one man at Riverrun who would know the truth of the matter. Another Kingsguard, Ser Mark Ryswell. He had been with Lord Stark at the Tower of Joy."

"Send for him, now," Rhaegar commanded. "I will have the truth of this."

"I will go send for him," Rhaella told him. She walked to the door and reached for the handle. When she opened it and stepped through, someone was already waiting outside. It wasn't Ser Ryswell, but it still made her stop.

"Your Grace," Jon Snow said respectfully from where he sat on a bench by the door. He bowed his head in the utmost respect, not raising it.

She said nothing, choosing to reach out with her fingers and tilted his face up. She looked hard and long at him, trying to see what it was that made Rhaegar declare that this boy was his son. He didn't protest how she held him in place like so, though his eyes showed their worry. But surprisingly enough, there was kindness and gratitude in them too.

She didn't know if it was the same thing that her son had seen, but she knew that this boy was a Targaryen. His face might be long and his hair brown, all characteristics of the Starks. But his face was the same face of her grandfather, King Aegon V. They had the same kind features etched into their faces. She had seen those features when she begged her grandfather to stop her marriage to Aerys. He had taken her in his arms and told her he wish he could, but his hands were tied. Even though she should've hated him for his inability, she still loved him for the kindness he had given her in that moment and the years before. _"This boy is a Targaryen,"_ she told herself, lowering fingers away. _"He is a dragon."_

"Mother, is something the matter?" Rhaegar called to her.

She ignored his call for looking at the boy before her. "What are you doing here?" she demanded of him.

"I thought it prudent to come before the king," he replied, not looking her in the eyes again, "To see if there was any way I could explain myself."

Perhaps it would be for the best. If he was in there, everything would be explained and things would be put to rest. "Come," she told her grandson. That last word had an odd taste to her now. "Stand up." He did as he was commanded and she brought him back into the room.

When everyone in the room saw him, they all reacted. The Kingsguard had faces filled with sadness but also relief. Rhaegar looked as if his heart was lodged in his throat. So was Elia's. Lady Catelyn was the only who dared to speak. "Jon, what are you doing here?" she demanded. Even though she spoke as lady would speak to a bastard that lived under her roof, her eyes flicked over to the king, to see if what she had said would cause her harm.

Rhaegar did not say anything. Jon Snow took that as a prompt to answer, "I came to explain my actions for what happened. Forgive me, your Grace," he said to Rhaegar, bowing his head low. "I did not mean to ruin the last joust."

The king found his voice. "I will not hold it against you."

"Come," Elia said to him, "Stand before us." She gestured to the spot in front of them.

He looked at them both. Rhaella saw the uncertainty in his eyes and knew it was still there when he looked back at Lady Stark. He must have thought that in this situation, she was his closest ally. That was wrong, he was with family now. He could trust the royal family. "I do not think that is right, your Grace," he said respectfully. "I will stand next to Lady Stark."

Catelyn Stark did not look sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. If Rhaegar did not like what he did, he did not show it. "Tell us then, Jon, what happened?" He said the boy's name with a slight distaste, as if he knew that wasn't his actual name.

He breathed deep before saying, "It was when I was on my way to the tiltyard. I saw the Redwyne twins harassing my friend, Samwell Tarly, with drawn blades. I remembered what happened the last time they tried to do that, by ambushing him along me and several others in the godswood."

"So you acted."

"I did. I did not have a weapon of my own but I was able to surprise one of them and take his sword. They were so surprised by my presence that I was able to knock down another and take his sword too. I fought them away from Sam and kept them away. When I was able to get Sam towards the castle to find the maester, they turned their attentions to me. I did not know how long we fought, only that we were moving. It was only when Robb joined me that I saw we were in the tiltyard during the final joust."

Rhaegar considered him for a moment longer and then looked at Ser Gerold. "Have a man go to the maester's and confirm that Samwell Tarly is there being attended for his wounds," he commanded. "If he is able, get his side of his story."

"Yes, your Grace," the White Bull replied. He went to the door.

"Ser Hightower," Jon said, making the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard stop. "He fought back. Sam will probably try to deny it and his father might dismiss it, but he fought back. I saw him throwing punches and he gave the Redwyne twins black eyes. Tell Lord Tarly that."

Ser Gerold inclined his head to him. "As you say, my prince," he said in his quiet but strong voice. Jon's face paled at those words. He opened his mouth to speak but he was already gone from the room.

Silence filled the air as the door closed. Rhaella watched her grandson look around the room. He was uncomfortable being there now that he thought he said his piece. His eyes flicked over to Lady Stark in a silent plea. She stared at him for a moment longer, like she was deciding to heed his plea or not. Finally, she said, "Thank you, Jon. You may go—"

"Jon," Elia said, overriding her and making him pause in mid-step. "Stand before us."

"I-I do not think that is proper, your Grace. I have said my piece. I will not intrude any longer."

"You argue to a queen?" she asked him. Her voice was not threatening nor was it the false calm voice she had used on Lady Stark.

Yet still he flinched as if he had been struck. _"What has Lady Stark done to the boy?"_ Rhaella thought to herself. She looked to Lady Catelyn with a heated stare. She did not return the gaze.

"No, your Grace," Jon replied. He still did not look at her or Rhaegar.

"Then stand before us."

He went to them hesitantly, almost like a knowing lamb to the slaughter. When his feet did reach them, he looked down at them. He would not look his father in the eye. Was it because if he did, he would know that was said was true? Rhaegar and Elia waited for him to look up but he refused to do so. _"Lift your head, my grandson,"_ Rhaella urged him. He was a Targaryen. A dragon did not shy away from others.

But still he looked at the ground. Elia's expression was gentle and so was the hand that reached out to lift his chin. There was little strength in her fingers but it was like they held him in place. Twin smiles appeared on Rhaegar's and Elia's faces as they looked at him. "Lyanna," the king said. "You are her son."

"Your Grace," Jon said, his voice quiet but also filling the room. "There must be some sort of mistake."

"There isn't. You have her eyes and her hands with the sword. You are Lyanna's son. You are my son."

"You are our son," Elia told him with a mother's warmth and kindness. Her fingers moved forward and her hand now cupped his face. "I promised Lyanna that I would love any child of hers like they were one of my own."

It was a surprising thing to see her show so much love to her husband's bastard. But Rhaella had long suspected that there was something more to her son and Lady Lyanna. Listening to Elia say those words, it made her wonder if Rhaegar wasn't the only one who loved. The question she now had was should she keep the thoughts to herself or demand the truth from her son.

Jon shook his head. "My queen, you are mistaken. I am not Lady Lyanna's son. My father is Lord Eddard Stark."

A spasm of anger passed through Rhaegar's face at those words. "That is a lie," he told him. "You were lied to, stolen away from your family." He reached out and placed a hand of comfort on Jon's shoulder.

He shook his head again. "No, that's not true. I'm just a bastard."

"You are not a bastard. You are my son, a prince of the Iron Throne. Your name is not even Jon. You are Daemon of the House Targaryen, a dragon."

"No. My father's Eddard Stark."

"He is not," Elia told him, her voice comforting. "He is the man who took you away from your actual family."

His head shook again. "No, that's not true."

"It's alright, Daemon. It's alright. You're with your family now. When the tourney ends tomorrow, you'll come home, back to King's Landing."

Jon's face paled. He looked horrified at the idea. "That's not my home. My home is Winterfell," he protested. Lady Stark's face winced slightly at those words.

"They may have raised you there, but it is not your home. Your home is in the Red Keep, alongside your siblings."

Rhaella saw a change come to Jon's eyes. They were unsure before but now they hardened into denial. "No," he said, shaking his head harder. "That's not true. The prince and princess are not my siblings. I do not belong in the Red Keep."

"You do," Rhaegar told him. "You are my son, Daemon."

"No, that's not my name."

"It is."

His head kept shaking. "No."

"Do not deny us this, Daemon. We thought you were dead all this time. This should be a moment of joy and celebration."

"No, this isn't real. It's a lie. It had to be a lie."

" _Why would he deny this?"_ Rhaella asked as she watched. She would have thought that Jon would have been ecstatic to know that he was accepted, not shunned, by his true family. But he was refusing and denying everything that they told him.

But as he denied, Rhaegar got that stubborn look on his face, his eyebrows furrowing together and his eyes glinting in the light. "It is the truth," he said with the authority of a king to Jon. "You were taken from us by the Starks. You were lied to. You were hidden away from us. But you are with us once more. You are Lyanna's son and mine and Elia's. You are Daemon Targ—"

"NO!" he roared, breaking away from their hands as he stepped back. His voice had filled the room, overwhelming all others. He stood away from Rhaegar and Elia, looking at them like they were thieves come to take him. "My name is Jon Snow. My father is Lord Eddard Stark. I don't know who my mother is."

"Daemon," said Elia, trying to be reassuring. He only turned and left the room. Once the door closed, they all heard him run off.

* * *

Rhaella left the room to search for her long-lost grandson. Sandor followed behind her, having stayed outside the room. He was quiet but she sensed there was something probing in his stare. "Do you have questions, Sandor?" she asked him.

"About what, your Grace?" he asked in his usual growl.

"About this whole situation," she said back.

"No, I don't. Either the boy's a Stark bastard or a Targaryen prince. It makes no difference to me in the end." That was always the thing with the Hound. He was brutally honest about whatever was in front of him.

Rhaella smiled to herself. It was that brutal honesty that made her keep him around. The court at the Red Keep might look at her sworn shield as something that did not belong but he always gave her honest council. He could look at the courtiers and the ladies with a sneer and see right through them. But when she found her grandson, what would be needed was delicacy, not bluntness. "Would you please go check on Daenerys, Sandor? I want to make sure that after that has been revealed, she is fine."

"Of course, your Grace," he said. He turned and walked away.

She listened to his armored feet striking the stone floor until it faded away. She continued to look for her grandson. She went around the castle but could not seem to find him. As she looked for him, she did think about what to call him. She had long known that if Rhaegar had gotten a son on Lady Lyanna, in spite of all he had planned for, the babe would be named Daemon. It would be done so in order to bring a different life to the name instead of one that dealt with betrayal and attempted usurpation.

But the boy had lived his entire life with the name Jon. She wondered if Lyanna had named him as such or if Lord Stark done so. Not for the first time since Rhaegar declared who Jon was in front of the tiltyard, she wished that Eddard Stark was here in Riverrun. If he was here, a lot of questions could be answered. But for now, she would have to settle for finding her grandson and ensuring that he would be okay. Until he was more comfortable with what was happening, she would call him Jon.

When she did find him, it was the place she should have looked first: the godswood. He was sitting before the heart tree and he wasn't alone. The Stark children were all around him and their wolves surrounded them. Two walls, one of flesh and one of fur and claws, prevented her from approaching her grandson. She hung back, staying behind a tree and listened.

"So, what does that mean?" Brandon Stark asked Jon, looking at him with a puzzled look.

Sansa Stark looked down at her brother. "It means Jon's a prince, a Targaryen," she told him. She looked at Jon with a slightly awed expression. Ever since they had come to Riverrun, Rhaella could see that the girl had an idealized view of the world, believing in the songs and the romantic stories. But because of those songs and stories, she had been distant with Jon, since he was a bastard.

And now, she found out that he was a prince all along. _"She must think that this is a song right now,"_ Rhaella thought to herself. If she was a cruel or a cynical person, she might've laughed at the foolish girl.

Her sister looked at her with an angry expression. "He's not a prince!" Arya Stark declared.

Sansa looked at her with a little frown. "Arya, you heard the king the same as me. He said that Jon was his son."

"I don't care what that stupid king said!"

"Arya, you can't say that! He's the king!"

"I don't care!" she practically screamed.

The two of them might've come to blows if Robb Stark hadn't put himself between them. "Sansa! Arya! Stop this at once!" he commanded them with a lord's voice. "This is not the time for one of your fights! This isn't about you now!"

The younger became silent and stepped back, though she continued to glare at her sister. Sansa ignored her and looked at her brother. "But Robb, you heard King Rhaegar too."

"I did, Sansa. But the king had never laid eyes on Jon before now. How would he know if what he said was the truth?"

"He said I have Aunt Lyanna's eyes and hands," Jon said hollowly. He spoke as if he was ashamed of those simple facts.

"What does that mean?" Brandon asked.

He hunched his head lower, almost hiding it. "I don't know. I don't know what all of this means."

Robb put his hand on his shoulder. "It will be alright, Jon. When the tourney is done, we'll go back to Winterfell. Father's there. He'll be able to explain this all."

"And what was he says that it's true? That I am the son of the king? If it's true, by rights I should be sent to live with them in King's Landing."

"No," Arya said vehemently. "You're coming home."

"But if he's King Rhaegar's son, he belongs in King's Landing," Brandon said. He was confused, it showed on his face. But he was trying to work his way through it.

Robb looked at him with an authoritative look. "Nothing is decided until we get back home. Father will tell us the truth."

"But what if he says the same King Rhaegar did?"

They fell silent. Rhaella saw they didn't know the answer to the question. "Perhaps," Jon said, "it would be best if Lord Stark didn't tell me the truth."

They all looked at him like he was mad. "Jon, he would have to tell the truth if you asked," Sansa said to him. "Are you saying that you'll refuse to ask him?"

"I wouldn't be able to."

She frowned. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that maybe it's best that I don't go back to Winterfell."

Silence fell in the godswood. Rhaella looked at her grandson, hopeful that he was considering come to King's Landing. "Are you going to King's Landing then?" Brandon asked.

"No," said Jon.

"Where will you go then?"

"The Wall, to join the Night's Watch," he answered.

A cold feeling washed over Rhaella. He would abandon all that he would know and all that was his to join the Night's Watch? All so he would never know the truth? He was that scared of it? "Jon," Robb Stark said, looking how she felt, "That's going too far."

He looked up at him, a determined look in his eyes. "You know that I was thinking of joining the Night's Watch before we came to Riverrun. It's an honorable calling. Starks have manned the Wall for thousands of years."

"I know but—"

"But what?" he demanded. "Do you have a better idea for what I should do!?" His cousin didn't answer him. None of them did.

Until Rickon crawled into his lap, placed his little hands on Jon's face and said, "Don't go."

His face broke and he hugged the boy tight. "I don't want to go, Rickon. I don't. I just don't know what else to do." His voice sounded close to tears.

Arya hugged him tight. "You're still my brother," she told him as she held onto his arm. "I don't care what they say. You're my brother."

They all hugged him and Rhaella watched. She was struck by what she was seeing. Even though the truth was revealed, they were willing to love him. They were willing to take him away from his true family to protect him. They didn't want him to run away. Suddenly, she felt that her own family didn't deserve him, at least not right away.

She left the godswood as silently as she had entered. _"Perhaps we should let him stay with the Starks,"_ she thought to herself. At least until he came to terms with the truth. Once he was used to it, they could have him come to King's Landing. She would have to trust Lord Stark to keep in Winterfell when he told the truth to Jon. A command from the king would make him keep Jon there.

But she had a niggling feeling that it wouldn't work like so. The last time a note like that was sent to Winterfell, she watched her son sail away to White Harbor. If this idea was to work, it would need to be written the right way. She would have to talk about it with her son. She found him and Elia in the lord's chambers. She walked into the solar and saw they were in the bedroom.

"Rhaegar, we're going to lose him," Elia said. She stood beside the bed while he paced.

"We're not going to lose him," Rhaegar told her.

She wasn't convinced. "He's going to leave with the Starks, Rhaegar. He will leave with them and as soon as he crosses the Neck, he won't come back down." Rhaella stepped out of sight so they wouldn't see her. If they did, they would stop this conversation right away. "We lost Lyanna, Rhaegar," her son's wife continued, "and we thought we lost Daemon once already. I don't want to lose him again."

"I don't want to lose him either, Elia," he said, his voice muffled. He must've stopped pacing and was holding her close now. "And we won't. Daemon will be coming with us."

"You have a plan?"

"I do. The Starks will not hold him again. He'll back in King's Landing with his actual family."

Rhaella stayed where she stood, out of sight of them both. She didn't know what to do. Jon wanted to be with the family he knew and she respected that. But Rhaegar wanted him to come home. It was something that she wanted if she was being honest with herself. Dragons should never be sent so far away from each other.

But that wasn't what Jon wanted. He wanted to go back to the people he knew and forget everything that he had learned at Riverrun. He was willing to go so far as to run away if it meant he could avoid the truth. Should she tell the Starks what her own son was going to do? Should tell Rhaegar that the son long-hidden from wanted to ignore the truth?

It was a question that had her wonder in complete silence. But in the end, she decided to hold her silence. Whatever would happen, she would accept it. This was not her decision to make. It was up to the gods.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

I'll admit I didn't expect that kind of a turnout for the last chapter. It was actually surprising for me. Thank you for it.

Some of you might believe how Rhaegar and Elia recognized Jon might be flimsy. The duel-wielding is on flimsy ground, I'll admit, because I didn't want to put it in before now. I wanted to mislead about the apparent similarities between Arthur and Jon.

The eyes, that's something else. Whenever people meet Jon, they say that he has the Stark look. To me that was the general view. If people look past the general view, they can see details that are different. They might have had the same eye colors but I'd be willing to be that Lyanna's eyes were a little different from Ned's.

The name change was also deliberate. A lot of stories I've read where Rhaegar wins and Jon lives in King's Landing, he's always named Jaehaerys or something that can be shorted to Jon. You can't do that with Daemon. Plus, it gives Rhaegar a chance to try and redeem that name after the whole Blackfyre debacles.

If you're wondering where Jocelyn was when her family was in the godswood, she's still a little wrapped up in the fact that her supposed father is actually her uncle.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 27: Catelyn

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Riverlands)

They had decided to leave Riverrun after the revelation at the tiltyard. When Catelyn had decided this and told her family, Robb supported her. Sansa was the only one who looked like she wanted to protest. She felt sorry for her daughter. She must've felt that she was living a dream for this tourney. But dreamers must awaken. Sansa must've known this for even though she wanted to stay, she did not say a word in protest.

The entire Northern party left the next day, having packed through the night so they could leave at dawn. Catelyn didn't know if she should've felt sad or relieved that she was able to relax once the castle where she was born was gone from sight. Riverrun had changed so much since she had gone to Winterfell. No, that wasn't it. It wasn't Riverrun. She had changed.

She did not look back from where she rode at the party's head. She would not look upon the girl she thought had been her husband's bastard nor the boy whose bastardy was now in doubt. Jon Snow confused her even more than before. She found herself wanting to refuse to believe that he was the supposed son of King Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark. She knew that her husband would not steal another man's child. There was no honor in it. But if she held onto that refusal, she was acknowledging the fact that her Ned brought a bastard home when she was still pregnant with Robb.

The other side of the coin was just as horrifying to her. If what the king had proclaimed was true, then she had treated a nephew by marriage horribly. She should've offered him love and care, warmth even. But instead she had treated both him and Jocelyn with coldness, giving them the clothes they wore and the food they ate begrudgingly, wanting nothing more to see their backsides leave Winterfell and never come back.

" _Am I a horrible person?"_ she asked herself. Would the Seven look down upon her and judge her for what she had done? No, that couldn't be so. She had done as best she could in helping her lord husband rule Winterfell and the North, giving him five children and loving them all. Whenever there were guests in her house, she welcomed them with proper courtesy and warm politeness. Surely that must account for something in the eyes of the gods.

But even as she asked herself that question her mind went back to Jon and Jocelyn. The gentle swaying of the saddle made her feel as if in a trance, aided by the sound of the Green Fork flowing past. Would they blame for her for how they were treated? They might for how they were treated. But she knew that they were not spiteful people. Jon Snow had tried to refuse to come to Riverrun until Robb and Arya had convinced him.

"Does something trouble you, my lady?" Prince Viserys asked her, riding close.

She came out of her trance at his voice. "Prince Viserys," she said in greeting.

"Lady Stark, please. I have lived underneath your roof since I was seven. I have grown up alongside your children, consider Robb to be my brother more than Rhaegar, and I am to wed your daughter. There is no need for such formality between us. Call me Viserys."

She would but decorum must be met. She would call him by his title until he married Sansa. Only then would she name him goodson. "I will think on it," she told him. "But to answer your question, I was thinking on my actions."

"Actions?" he repeated with a puzzled look.

She did not look back when she said, "Towards Jocelyn and Jon."

His face showed his realization. "I see." His voice took a quieter note. "Is it because of what Rhaegar said at the tiltyard?"

He thought that it was because of Jon. He didn't know about Jocelyn. She hadn't told anyone yet. She kept to her promise of keeping it quiet until they reached Winterfell so they could both speak to Ned. Catelyn didn't know if she should have felt proud of the girl for keeping that promise or not. Even so, Viserys was not talking about her. "Do you believe that he is right?" she asked back instead.

He thought about it, keeping a good hand on his reins. "In truth, I am uncertain. On the one hand I have been raised along with Jon. He does not act like a dragon but I would say that is because Lord Stark raised him. On the other hand, despite what I might think of him personally, I know that Rhaegar would never say anything like that without fully believing it himself." He looked at her. "Did he tell you what marked Jon as his son?"

"Only that he had Lyanna's eyes and her hands."

"Her hands?" he replied with a note of incredulity. "I have seen Jon's hands and they are by no means, dainty."

She shook her head slightly. "No, he said that Jon had her skill in wielding two swords."

"That's it? It sounds weak to me for a reason. People not might believe it."

"They might."

A tree swaying over the river caught his attention momentarily. She wondered what it was he was thinking about as he watched the leaves jostle in the wind. "If there was any more evidence that Jon is Rhaegar's son, I know three men who would know and tell him," he said, "Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell, and Ser Arthur."

The three Kingsguard who had been at the Tower of Joy, she knew that. But they did not seem to truly know if Jon was the king's son or not. Only Ser Mark Ryswell did and he was still in Riverrun. She did not want to think on this anymore. She knew there was a way to go about that. "There is something that I wish to discuss with you, Prince Viserys, other than this."

"What is it, my lady?"

"What happened at Riverrun between the Northerners and the Dornish." She fixed him with a stern look. "I have heard that it was you who antagonized it when the bonds of friendship were being made."

He grimaced and his handsome face turned ugly. But he did not deny it. "I did what I thought was right."

"You ruined any chance of friendship being made between our two lands." Her husband had started shipping ice to Dorne and it had proven to be a good business. Some had considered it was the first step to peace. That was ruined now.

"Princess Arianne went after your daughter with her cousins because she was a prissy little—" He stopped talking, realizing that he was still in the presence of a lady. "She was threatened your daughter because she was upset I would not marry her, my lady. I was not going to let her get away with what she had done because it was done in the dark of the night."

"That does not excuse what you did, Prince Viserys."

"No, it justifies it." He looked her in the eyes. "I know you, my lady. You would have done the same to protect Sansa."

She would not have antagonized what little relations the North and Dorne had. What she would have done was make the princess apologize to her daughter before witnesses, such as her family or barring that, the king. Viserys was right, she would do anything to protect her children. But that did not mean she would throw the kingdoms into a potential war, not without good cause.

The words he spoke caught her attention too. He sounded angry, fury coating his voice. But there was more just fury in his voice. There was something there too. It was…rage. She looked at him and asked in a whisper, "Did it happen when you spoke to the princess?"

He looked at her for a moment in silence. He shook his head. "No. It might've had Sansa not been there to stop me."

She breathed in relief. "That is good."

"She is my balm." Those words were spoken as if a prayer.

She did not wonder why he said it so, not when she knew all too well why. It was why when she learned of the supposed betrothal between Prince Viserys and Princess Arianne she didn't dissolve the one between him and Sansa. He needed her and she would be protected by him. If she closed her eyes, she could still see how she, Bran, and Domeric were brought back to Winterfell. Sansa clung to him and he held onto her like he was afraid to lose her.

* * *

Their journey continued northwards, spending days and nights on the road. She did not know if the king would send word to stop them if they stopped at any lord's castle. But she knew that she would not risk it. So she and the ladies that had come south shared tents on their way north. They had passed the Twins without needing to cross their bridge (something that eased everyone's minds) and were close to the Neck when they settled in for another night.

She was sitting down inside the tent alone, resting her legs. She spent the last two miles walking her horse instead of riding it. She rubbed her leg when Arya burst into the tent. "Mother!" she called out in panic.

"Arya?" she said, coming to her feet.

"Jon's missing!"

She went still, letting the words fully imprint themselves in her mind. "What do you mean by that, Arya?"

Her face turned angry. "I mean he's not here with us! I've been looking for him all day and I can't find him!"

A cold feeling emerged in her stomach. She looked to her daughter and asked, "Are you absolutely sure? He's not here."

She nodded. "I looked everywhere!"

Catelyn looked past her at the tent flap. There didn't seem to be anyone listening in. "Go and get Robb, Arya," she ordered, "And Prince Viserys as well. Bring them directly to me." Arya didn't argue, only turning back and racing out of the tent.

She was left to her thoughts. Was Jon Snow truly not with them? If he was, how was it that no one had noticed before now? She knew that she had not truly looked for him since leaving Riverrun but did no one else try finding him to even speak? _"Wait, the wolves are here, all six of them,"_ she thought to herself. She remembered seeing them often leaving the group to hunt in the wilds. She had seen all six of them off to hunt and must've assumed that all six of their owners were here, including the bastard.

The ten flap moved, letting in the fading light. She saw her son and Prince Viserys come in, along with Arya. "What is it, Mother?" Robb asked her, already concerned.

"Arya, tell them what you told me."

She looked up to them. "I can't find Jon."

Their faces morphed into puzzlement, just like Catelyn's had. "What do you mean?" Robb asked.

"Just what I mean!" said Arya, angrier now. "I can't find Jon. He's not here!"

"That's impossible. He has to be here!"

"I've been looking all around and he's not here! Have you?"

He opened his mouth but closed it. Catelyn watched her son think about the last time he had seen Jon Snow. "I saw him at Riverrun, the morning that we were leaving. I thought that he was with us when we left."

"The same as me," said Prince Viserys, nodding in agreement. "I told him that we would talk when we reached Winterfell. I thought that he wished to be alone for the journey back north."

"I thought the same," he agreed. "I thought he was with us.

Arya was still frowning. "He wasn't," she told the both of them.

"The wolves are all here," Viserys said. "I saw them."

"We all did," Robb agreed.

Arya looked them both in the eyes with a determined look. She almost looked like her father in that moment. "Ghost is here but Jon isn't. Where is he?"

"I don't know, Arya," he told his sister.

Catelyn saw Viserys frowning at the tent wall. She knew that frown well. It was the one he wore when he was thinking hard. "Your highness, do you think—"

"That my brother, the king, would deign to have a bastard taken from his family to the-gods-know where?" he asked, finishing her question. There was a slight accusing tone to his voice.

She wouldn't have asked this question to a member of the royal family, or even someone who was raised underneath her roof. But she heard the doubt beneath the accusation. "It would not be somewhere so random, my prince. We both know where King Rhaegar would take him if he did this."

He was silent for a moment longer before sighing in what sounded like defeat. "Yes, I would say that he would do it."

Robb looked shocked. "The king has Jon?"

"It would seem so."

The shock vanished and was replaced by anger. "We must do something!"

"What, Robb? What must we do?"

He struggled to find the right thing to say. Catelyn saw how trouble her son was. He loved his bastard brother, even though she had attempted to stop it. "I don't know what, but we have to do something. The king has kidnapped my brother."

"Not in his eyes, he hasn't," she said. "To the king, he must think that he is bringing his son home."

"Mother, you can't be serious. We have no proof that Jon is King Rhaegar's son."

"But they do. They have Ser Mark Ryswell. He traveled with your father to retrieve Lady Lyanna."

"And we have Lord Stark," Viserys said. "If there is a voice that will reign supreme on this matter, it will be his."

That was what made Catelyn so nervous about the situation. If her husband had the last truth to this story and it was what the king believed, then her fears of what she had done would be confirmed. Her mind drifted back to when Viserys, Osha, Theon, and Jon had returned from hunting Ramsey Snow. She had heard the story of how Jon slammed into the Bolton bastard, taking them both through the fire. But when she had glanced at him, she did not see any burns on Jon Snow. She had made a quick assumption of them being hidden away before turning her attention back to her own children. But what if he hadn't been burned at all? Had no one truly noticed this?

"Mother," Arya said, looking up at her. "What are we going to do?"

She looked down at her daughter. Her grey eyes were wide and they were shining with fear. She loved her bastard brother too and she was afraid of what might happen to him. _"Family, Duty, Honor,"_ she said to herself. Did she really know what those words mean now if she had treated her niece and possible nephew so? She stopped herself from going into that question. There wasn't any time for it. "We can't let news of this spread," she finally said. "No one can know that Jon Snow has been taken, not until we are safely in the North."

"What?" Arya almost shouted. She remembered to keep her voice down at the last moment, making her voice sound like a roar ending in a squeak. She looked at her mother with shock and rage. "Mother, you can't be serious!"

"I am. No one can know."

"I do not think that will be possible, my lady," Viserys said. "If Arya figured it out, others will too."

"Even if that might be, there is nothing we can do about it now," she told them all. "We cannot turn back around and accuse the king of being a kidnapper. It would be grounds for a war, something that we are not ready for."

"But we must do something!" Arya cried indigently.

She knelt down and hugged her daughter. "We will, Arya. But we can't do anything now. We must return to the North."

They ended the talk there and slept the rest of the night. But as they journeyed up into the North, it was as Viserys predicted. More and more of their group began to notice that Jon Snow was not amongst them. Catelyn had done her best to keep the truth quiet but it seemed to always get out. She would've expected Arya to do something like this but she never seemed to be where Jon Snow was discussed.

As he was discussed more and more, the Pack grew angrier. Catelyn could admit she was surprised by their reaction. She had always thought that Jon Snow stood a little away from the Pack. They acknowledged him but never truly accepted him as one of their own. Or was it her beliefs that made it seem so? She watched the boys who had been sent to foster with Robb be angry at the loss of one their own. She heard the mutters of war when they thought that she wasn't listening.

Each time she heard those words, she could only shake her head. These boys, they thought themselves men ready to wage war. What did they know of war? War was no tourney like the one they had left. Men would die in war. Hard times followed a war. And these boys of summer would gladly charge into it. If there was one thing that was to be admired about the whole thought of war, it would be that they would wage it to bring back one of their own, even if that one was Jon Snow.

When they crossed the Neck safely into the North, the mutterings became full-blown talks. She had Robb and Viserys try to quell these talks whenever they cropped up. It worked to an extent. But she could see that her firstborn son shared the same mind as the Pack. He wanted to ride back down south and get Jon Snow back from the king. She was afraid that he would change his mind and have the Pack turn around but no one left for the south, only their homes in the North.

Still, the tension was there and it did not leave until they had reached Winterfell. As soon as she saw those ancient grey walls, Catelyn breathed in relief. They were safe now. That feeling carried her into the courtyard and she saw her Ned standing there, waiting for them. "My lady," he said, showing the warmth hidden beneath the icy demeanor he presents to the world, "Welcome home."

She hugged him like he was about to vanish from her life. "Ned, it is wonderful to see you."

He held her just as tightly. Together, they shared in that moment of comfort. Nothing else mattered to them. But the moment was gone when he broke the hug and looked past her. There was no doubt in Catelyn's mind that he was looking at the Pack. "What happened at Riverrun?"

She opened her mouth to speak but Jocelyn spoke first. "Lord Stark," she said, coming out of the Pack's midst and stopping in front of them. "May Lady Catelyn and I speak to you in private? It is in regards to something we learned at Riverrun."

He looked at her and then Catelyn. She nodded in agreement. "Very well, we will meet in my solar." They broke apart and everyone went their separate ways into Winterfell.

Catelyn and Jocelyn went to Ned's solar in silence. They entered and found him standing by his desk, facing the fire. Looking at him standing there, waiting, Catelyn saw how much Jon Snow looked like her husband. They had the same long face, solemn expression, grey eyes, and brown hair. But as she looked, there were differences. Her Ned's cheekbones didn't look as sharp as Jon Snow's and his eyes were a slightly different shade of grey.

"Lord Stark," Jocelyn said, polite as she could be. It was something that was surprising to Catelyn. Her now-known niece would have greeted her husband much more warmly than this. But now, she was courteous.

He turned his head to look at them. "My ladies, what is it that you wished to talk to me about?"

They came into the room, Catelyn closing the door behind them. Jocelyn came before the desk and looked at him. "My mother was with the king and queen at Riverrun, my lord. She told both me and Lady Stark who my father was," she told him in a voice that edged the line of accusatory but did not go over it.

He did not say anything right away, staying silent as he looked at her and then at Catelyn. "What did she tell you?" he finally asked.

"That my father was your brother, Brandon Stark." She looked him straight in the eye. "Is it a lie?"

Catelyn waited for him to answer with a bated breath. "Do you think your mother is a liar, Jocelyn?" he asked her.

"That is not what I asked." Her voice trembled on the verge of anger. She was trying to hold it in but her grip was slowly loosening.

"You asked me if it was a lie. It was your mother who told you it."

"And I am asking you. Is it a lie?"

"…No, it is not," he confessed, a sad expression on his face. "You are my niece, not my daughter as you believed."

She had a feel that it would happen but still Catelyn was caught by surprise when her view of her family shifted. It was confirmed now. Jocelyn was her niece, not her stepdaughter. "Why?" she found herself asking Ned. "Why didn't you say anything? Why did you let me think that she was your bastard daughter by Ashara Dayne?"

He looked at her, his grey eyes sad and solemn. "Partly out of kindness to you, my lady, and partly because of my own selfishness," he told her.

She already knew the answer before she moved her lips, but she still wanted to hear it. She wanted to hear it from his lips, not Ashara Dayne's. "Kindness?" she asked.

"Yes, kindness," he repeated. "I saw how you looked at Brandon at Harrenhal. When I read the letter that Lady Ashara sent with Jocelyn, I knew that you would be hurt by the knowledge that he had sired a bastard before marrying you."

She didn't say anything back, because he was right. She would have accepted the fact that her betrothed had sired a child on a woman other than her. But so long as it was kept away from Winterfell, she wouldn't have raised any complaints. She looked at Jocelyn with a new eye and realized something. The fierceness that she had in her, it didn't just come from her mother. It came from her father.

Jocelyn spoke. "But why do you say selfishness, uncle?"

He winced slightly at that last word. "I had admired your mother, Jocelyn, and perhaps even loved her in the short time we were at Harrenhal together. When I saw you ride into Winterfell and I learned who you were, I wondered if there was a chance you could've been my daughter. The thought weighed on me and I will admit that I felt jealous for my dead brother, something that I have been ashamed of. I saw how you looked up at me with that silent question of if I was your father. I wanted to tell you so much that I was but I could not lie, not about this. So I said that you were of my blood and you would be welcomed in Winterfell."

Catelyn remembered that day too. When she had heard those words, she had been so angry. She had thought that he had all but declared that she was his bastard from Ashara Dayne. Now she felt foolish for not asking him directly. But now there was a question that hung heavy in her mind. "What do we do about this now?"

Jocelyn looked back at her. There was no hatred in her eyes or condemnation either. "Fear not, Lady Catelyn," she said. "I will never try to usurp Robb's positon as heir to Winterfell, firstborn of the firstborn or not. He will be the Warden of the North and I will do everything I can to aide him in the days to come."

She couldn't think of anything to say in reply, except "Thank you, Jocelyn."

She looked at her for a moment long and looked at Ned. "Good day, uncle." She left the solar without another word.

The both of them watched the door long after it had closed. Catelyn felt like she should have said something more to Jocelyn before she left but nothing came to her mind. She was still trying to come to grips with the fact that she had mistreated her niece, not her husband's bastard. That word steeled her nerves. "There is something else we must talk about, Ned," she said to her husband.

He looked to her. "What is it, my lady? Did something else happen at Riverrun?"

"Yes, and it has ties to a question that you have never answered. During the last joust, Jon Snow caused a commotion to protect a friend he had made. He came before the king and King Rhaegar demanded of me why House Stark had his son. When we were alone, I protested that he had to be mistaken, that Jon Snow could not be his son. Yet he insisted that it was true. The king believes this so much that he had taken his supposed son from us on the same day we left."

"He did what?" asked Ned, his eyes shining with anger.

She remained undeterred. "Ned, I have tried to tell the king that Jon Snow is your bastard. But I am given to wonder. I had learned that Jocelyn was not your bastard but your brother's. I cannot help if you have told me and the Seven Kingdoms the same lie about Jon Snow."

He looked at her, his eyes losing the anger and turning guarded. Her Ned was gone and the Lord of Winterfell stood in his place. "What is it that you want to know, my lady?"

"I want the answer you have denied me. I want to know if the king had the truth of the matter. I want to know if I treated a nephew like a bastard. Tell me the truth here and now, Ned. Who is Jon Snow's mother?"

They stared at each other in silence. He did not say anything. She wondered if she had finally overstepped herself by asking that question. But she had to know. With everything that had happened, he could not deny her this. Did the king speak the truth? Was Jon Snow his son by Lyanna Stark? Did her husband take Jon as a form of revenge for what the dragons had done to him and his family? She waited for him to say something that would confirm or deny her suspicions. The silence seemed to stretch out but she still did not do anything to break it.

Finally, he spoke.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

What Viserys said about Jon to Catelyn is for all the readers who complained about how Rhaegar recognized Jon as Lyanna's son. There was a lot of it too, sheesh.

Viserys might not be as stable as you all might assume. You'll get an explanation in the story. It will have to do with him, Sansa, and how they got betrothed. And just to head this off before it can start, no, he doesn't do anything to her.

The ending was intentional. Can't make it easy for you guys now, can I?

I'll see you all next chapter!


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 28: Arthur

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: King's Landing)

He didn't like this. This was not what the Kingsguard did. They did not kidnap people, drug them into a stupor, and ride hard for the safety of King's Landing while the tourney was extended another day. But the king had ordered them to do this. How could they disobey? _"You did the same thing when Rhaegar married the boy's mother beneath a heart tree,"_ a traitorous voice whispered in his mind. _"You did nothing. How many more would be alive if you had?"_

Still, as he looked at the boy sleeping on the bed, he wondered if Jon Snow, or Daemon Targaryen, was truly Lyanna's child. It's not that he had never seen her babe. She had told him and his brother Kingsguard that the child was a girl and they never saw the babe properly to know if it was the truth. It had always been swaddled and in her arms when they looked in the birthing chamber to check on her. The closest he had ever seen of the babe was a flash of dark hair, marking it as a Stark.

" _There might be one way to check,"_ he told himself. He remembered being on guard duty the day after Lady Lyanna had given birth. He had heard her laugh shortly and asked her what was so amusing. She had told him that the Seven were trying to mark her child because they must've already known it belonged to the old gods. When he asked what she meant, she described a small group of freckles on the babe's shoulder that looked like the seven-pointed star.

He went over to the bed and pulled the boy's shirt loose. He checked each shoulder. He found some freckles on the left. If he squinted and tilted his head, he could see a seven-pointed star. But there were some freckles missing. They had to have faded with age. The boy moved, shaking his shoulder free. Arthur didn't fight the quiet struggle. He withdrew his hand and left the room.

Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell were waiting outside the room. "Is it truly him then?" Oswell asked him. "Is he truly Lady Lyanna's son?"

"The king has said he was," he replied.

"And we were told that she had given birth to a daughter back at that damn tower. One of them is lying and I'd like to blame someone."

"Enough, Oswell," Ser Hightower told him. "We do not question the king. If he says Jon Snow is his son, than he is his son."

"But is he? Come now, Gerold, you were told by Lady Lyanna that she had birthed a daughter. We didn't question further but we also didn't look harder. The fault lies with us for the doubt."

"Perhaps," said the White Bull.

"Do you see another way? I don't."

"I do not question my king or his family."

"Perhaps it's time that we did that," Arthur said. He spoke the words to himself but they still overheard him. He saw the dangerous look in his lord commander and was swift to say, "Not amongst the court, but amongst us seven."

Oswell gave him an incredulous look. "Are you talking about what Lannister had been trying to write out for a year now?"

"Yes." He knew that Jaime had no great skill with the quill. He only thought better of the lad for it. "I believe that he calls it the Kingslayer Protocols." He wondered if Jaime named them so as his little joke or because he thought it was an apt name.

"We will not discuss it now," Ser Gerold declared. "Where is Ser Mark?"

Arthur thought about it for a moment. Mark came with them to King's Landing. Out of the four of them, he was the one who did not enjoy what they had done the most. There was a perpetual look of sorrow the entire ride from Riverrun. "I believe he said that he was going straight to the White Sword Tower. Why?"

He strode down the corridor. "It is time the three of us were told what really happened that day. I want to know how Lord Stark stole the prince out from under our noses and set the tower alight."

Both Arthur and Oswell followed him. "Surely you don't think that Lord Stark set the tower aflame," the Sword of the Morning protested. "His sister was inside!"

"How would he do it in the first place?" Oswell demanded. "It's not like Stark is some kind of sorcerer."

"That is what I intend to find out," their lord commander said. His words were filled with authority and it made them fall silent. They could tell that he was angry at being duped. The White Bull might be old but he was by no means feeble.

Like Arthur had said, Ser Mark was in the White Sword Tower. But what they were surprised to see was the man packing what few items he had into a sack. "Going somewhere, Ryswell?" Oswell asked.

The man turned and saw all three of them standing at his cell's door. But he did not seem surprised or angered to see them. "I am," he said.

"Where to?" asked Ser Gerold. "Lord Stark?"

"No, but it is for him that I will go to the Wall and join the Night's Watch."

The news stunned Arthur. A knight of the Kingsguard would give up his white cloak for a black one voluntarily? This had never happened before. "Why?" he asked.

Mark looked grim and sad. "I failed my lord. I could not do what he had asked me."

That was a damning confession and the three of them knew it. Arthur shared a look with Oswell. The question they both had was what did they do now? "Explain yourself, ser," the White Bull commanded. "What did Eddard Stark order you to do?"

"To stay in the capital and watch the royal family, see if they made any attempt to find the child of Lyanna Stark and to stop them if they did." He looked at them all. He must've seen the question they had on their minds for he said next, "No, I did not manipulate my way into the Kingsguard. The king offered it to me genuinely."

"But you accepted it still," Arthur told him, "All to spy on the royal family."

"Not spy but watch."

Oswell gave him a foul look. "Changing the word doesn't change the intent. You're spying on the royal family, a family you swore an oath to protect and defend."

"You know me, Oswell."

"I'm beginning to feel that I don't." His look turned fouler. "I do not take kindly to oathbreakers."

"I have not broken any oaths. House Targaryen is alive and well." He looked at them all with sad eyes. "But you do not believe me."

Arthur regarded him. How could they trust a man who willingly admitted to spying on the royal family for a would-be rebel lord? They had treated him like a brother and he had lied to them all these years. No, he had lied to them longer than that. "It is time to come clean, Mark," he declared. "Tell us what happened at the Tower of Joy. How did Lord Stark smuggled away Lady Stark's son? How was it we believed that she had died?"

They blocked his way out of the cell. He had to answer them to leave and join the Night's Watch or go to the block. He looked at them all, his eyes looking for any way to get out. He found none and sighed in defeat. "Very well, I will tell you what I know."

"How nice of you to do this," Oswell remarked.

He ignored his humor and started. "You know that we had come to the tower in the day. But that was not the first time we approached. When we first saw the tower, it was at the hour of the wolf. The three of you sat around a fire, keeping watch together. Some of us thought to rush forward and attack. But Howland Reed offered a different way. He went to the tower, armed with darts and a blow pipe. His aim was true and the three of you fell into a sleep that you would not remember.

"We rode to the tower once Lord Reed returned to us. We knew that you three stood guard but we did not know if there were more inside. Lord Stark chose to enter with Lord Reed while the rest of us kept watch over you in fear that you would awaken before planned. Time slipped past us as we kept our watch.

"When Lord Stark came back out near the dawn, he bade me, Lord Dustin, and Martyn Cassel to aid him. We followed him into the tower but not to the room where his sister lay. Instead, we went downwards into the basement, where we found Lord Reed already destroying anything and everything that was wooden. We did not know why but were ordered to assist.

"We did just that. When it was done, Lord Reed poured another concoction onto the mess and we left. We back to our horses and Lord Stark told us to ride away only to turn back. When we rode again to the tower, the sun was high in the sky. The rest, you know."

They did know. They had thought that was the time Lord Stark and his party had reached the Tower of Joy. But now the truth was out. _"It seems that Lord Stark would have made an excellent mummer,"_ Arthur thought to himself.

"What of the babe?" asked Ser Gerold, "What of Lady Stark's child? We were told that it was a girl."

"By Lady Lyanna?" he asked. Arthur nodded. "I did not know what happened to the babe until the ship was about to sail away from King's Landing. I had asked Lord Stark why he had allowed the tower to burn with his sister in it. He said, "The Targaryens have already taken two of my family. They will not have another.'"

"He killed her?!" Oswell shouted, starting for him. Ser Gerold held him in place but he still tried to get free. Arthur understood his anger. During their time at the tower, Oswell and Lyanna Stark got along the easiest. She had enjoyed his dark humor instead of being offended by it.

"No, she was already dead. The tower was her funeral pyre."

"And the babe?" said Ser Gerold.

Mark turned his attention to their Lord Commander. "The only time that I thought I saw a babe was when Lord Stark told me why the tower burned. Howland Reed had come from below decks with a bundle in hand."

He fell silent and they waited for his next words. But he stayed silent. "That's it?" demanded Oswell.

"That is all I know." He looked at the three of them. "Will you let me go to the Wall or take me before the king?"

"You betrayed your oath," Arthur said.

"In a small way, yes," he agreed. "But I am proud to say that I have never caused them harm."

Ser Gerold didn't believe so. "You've kept them from a member of their own family."

His face turned to silent anger. "You mean Ned's son, the one that we kidnapped?" he challenged the White Bull.

"We rescued Prince Daemon from his kidnappers."

"Rescued implies that he wanted to leave with us. Ser Oswell came behind him and drugged him into unconsciousness. We rode out one gate while the Starks left through another."

Arthur could see the similarities between what they had done and what he and Oswell did when Rhaegar ran away with Lyanna near Harrenhal. That had caused a war. Now, it felt like they were about to follow down the same path again. _"There's nothing that we can do about it now,"_ he thought in resignation.

"Enough, we have done our duty," declared the White Bull.

"And I have failed mine. Now I must atone."

Oswell raked him with a sneer. "I hope the Wall freezes your cock off, brother," he all but spat the word out. He turned and walked out. Ser Gerold followed him soon after, giving Ser Mark one last look of disappointment.

Arthur and Mark were left alone in the cell. He looked at the Northman, feeling ashamed. He had thought that he and Mark had become close since he stayed in King's Landing and eventually became a part of the Kingsguard. He had thought that the tragedy at the Tower of Joy had given them a bond. But he was wrong. "How could you have allowed this to happen?" he asked Mark.

"I obeyed my lord, the same as you did," he replied. "Why else would you have been at that tower, in Dorne?"

They had been there because it had been Arthur who suggested it as a safe hiding place for Lyanna. "It could have been different."

Mark shook his head. "No, it wouldn't. If Ser Gerold would have let us pass, Howland Reed wouldn't have ready the tower to burn. You were told to protect her and we were possible rebels. Perhaps the way it happened is for the best. We are all alive."

As much as he wanted to deny those words, he knew that it was true. Not all of them would have left the tower alive. But now that he thought of it, he wondered who would have left. He remembered Ned Stark fighting the brawl at Harrenhal and wondered if he was as good with his sword as he was with his fists. Was what they said about his brother wrong? _"There's no point wondering about it now,"_ he told himself. "Goodbye, Mark," he said to the Northman. "We will tell the king of your decision."

"Goodbye, Arthur," Ser Mark said back. "It was an honor serving next to you."

He left the cell and found his way back down to the Round Room. He saw Varys, the Master of Whispers, waiting there. He probably should have been surprised by the sight of him, but the Spider was good at his work. No doubt his spies had already sent word to him of what had happened. "Lord Varys," he greeted the eunuch clad in purple silks, keeping his voice and face neutral.

"Ser Arthur," he said back in that womanly voice he so favored. "Good day to you. I hope it was a good journey from Riverrun?"

"It was a quick journey and we both know it. What is that you want, my lord? Have I a need to call for Ser Gerold?"

"No, no, there's no need to call for the Lord Commander. You shall suffice."

His eyes narrowed and his hand clenched. If Dawn was near his grasp, he would have been tempted to reach for it. "For what?" he asked.

"My little birds have told me such an interesting thing, ser. They tell me of how four of the Kingsguard came riding into King's Landing and the king was nowhere in sight. They tell me of how one of the Kingsguard looked dissatisfied as he rode, like he had committed an act that he had no choice in."

"I'm sure your little birds tell you much, my lord."

He bowed his head simpering. "They do indeed."

"Then allow me to be blunt, Lord Varys, and cut through all the veiled words and meanings. How long have you known that Ser Mark Ryswell was watching the royal family for Eddard Stark?"

The eunuch did not bat an eyelash or even flinch. "Since the day he was left in King's Landing," he answered without shame.

Anger burned through his blood at those words. He had known all this time and had done nothing. "Why did you not tell anyone?" he demanded.

"What was there to tell, ser? The man watched the dragons but did nothing to them. He was chosen to become one of the king's seven and still did nothing. His words sent north were only for his family, never to his liege lord. I thought that he was there to prevent a march upon the North." His eyes looked hard at Arthur, trying to find something. He did not say anything but the eunuch still found what he was looking for. "And it would appear that I was wrong."

It came to Arthur in that moment. It was so astounding he didn't know that the Sword of the Morning was tempted to laugh in his face. But instead he allowed a smile on his lips. "It seems the Master of Whispers does not hear all whispers." Even though he took pleasure from the fact, he still felt that he should know, lest he find out some other way. "Tell me, Lord Varys, what do you know of Lord Stark's bastard children?"

"If by his bastard children, you mean your niece, I do know that she is Brandon Stark's daughter, not Eddard."

He didn't ask how the man knew. He was the Master of Whisperers. "I don't speak of Jocelyn but of Jon Snow. Did you know that he was the son of Lyanna Stark?"

The eunuch's eyes widened just enough to be recognizable. It lasted only for a moment before his expression went back to normal but it was long enough that Arthur would remember it. "I did not know," Varys admitted. "It seems that Lord Stark is completely honorable and yet managed tricked us all."

"You sound impressed."

"Lord Stark kept this secret for almost fifteen years without anyone finding out. I am somewhat impressed."

He turned angry. "He stole the king's own child and hid him away, from his own family. How can you be impressed at that?"

"Please, Ser Arthur, you are not your Lord Commander. You do not need to channel him between us. My little birds have also told me that after Ser Mark, you looked the most unsettle. You thought what you and your brothers did was not right. As for what Lord Stark did, I can see why he would do it. It is most likely he was not stealing the king's son but returning his sister's son to his family. Naming him as his bastard was just another layer of protection."

It was true, he knew that. But it was something that already happened. "It makes no difference," he told the Spider. "What's happened has happened."

"Is it?" he asked back mysteriously.

Arthur frowned. He did not like these kinds of games. He never did. "Speak truthfully."

"Ser Arthur, surely you do not think that Lord Stark will not allow the kidnapping of his son to go unsettled?"

No, he didn't think so. Ned Stark had sailed south to find his sister. If the man continued to claim Jon as his son, he would ride south to get him. But the odds were against him. The Warden of the North had to know that. "Surely you do not think that with the might of the rest of Westeros against him, he would be so foolish to try?"

Varys took on a mysterious expression. "There is an old saying in the North amongst the Starks' bannermen. 'Beware the silent wolves. They watch and will strike if the pack is threatened.' If things had gone as they intended and Brandon Stark had become the Lord of Winterfell, what would have become of Eddard Stark? If you had fought at the Tower of Joy, would you have lived?" Arthur didn't know the answer to that. Varys left the tower, clearly not expecting an answer.

* * *

It was a full day before the drug had worn off and the newly discovered prince awoken. Arthur knew this because the maid who had been sent to check on him came back running with tears, claiming that he had tried to kill her. He calmed her down, promising that the prince did not mean to act as such, and promptly went to the boy's chambers. He hesitated for a moment outside the door. _"Did we do the right thing?"_ he wondered one last time. The thought did not last long. It wasn't the time to question it.

He opened the door and walked in. Surprisingly, the room hadn't been destroyed like he had been expecting. "Good morning," he greeted the boy standing at the window, bending his knee to him.

Jon Snow (he knew that his name was Daemon but he could not think of him anything than Jon) turned from the window. His eyes showed just how confused he was. "Ser Dayne?" he said, looking at him. "Where am I?"

"Home, your Highness."

"Home?" he repeated, looking back at the window. Blackwater Bay loomed out and he would be able to smell it at the rail, not the stench of King's Landing. But he looked back and he was still confused. "This is not Winterfell."

"No, my prince, it is not. This is King's Landing."

"King's Landing? What am I doing in the capital?" There was a note of panic in his voice and he started looking around as if he was trying to find a way of escape.

"You are home, your Highness."

"I am not home! This isn't the North. I—" He stopped suddenly and looked shocked. "Did you kidnap me?"

"No, Prince Daemon. We rescued you." The words felt wrong in his mouth but he still said them.

It only took one look for him to know that Jon Snow didn't believe him. "You did kidnap me!"

"No, my prince—"

He winced at the title. "Why? Why did you do this to me?"

"Your father thought it best that you come home. He thought that if you were left to decide, you would go back to the North. That's why he asked us to take you to King's Landing." He remembered the king telling him and the other three late at night in Riverrun. He hadn't felt good about it then and he didn't feel good about it now. But Rhaegar was his king. He couldn't disobey him.

Jon looked at him with even greater shock. "The king had me stolen? Like my aunt?"

He could see the comparison but felt it was unjustified. The boy did not know what happened between his father and mother. "Your father did not steal you, your Highness. He brought you home."

"No! This is not my home." He looked at the door, judging it.

Arthur knew what he was thinking. He was seeing if he could run past him and get out into the keep. "If you would like to explore the Red Keep, I would be glad to guide you, my prince. You will have to know your way around your home."

"This isn't my home. My home is Winterfell. Please, Ser Arthur, let me go home," he begged.

He looked up at the prince. He looked as desperate as he had sounded. He also looked scared. It shamed Arthur to see such emotions staring back at him. _"We should've talked to him, not drug him and spirit him away."_ He did not say such things aloud. He kept his expression calm and neutral as he said, "You are home, Prince Daemon. You are in King's Landing, where a member of the royal family belongs. Your father and family will return in the coming days. You will be able to reunite with them soon."

The scared boy tried to hide his emotions and replace them with a wall of ice. "Very well, if I am to be treated as a prisoner, I will abide by my captor's wish to keep me here," he declared, going back to the bed and sitting on it.

The Kingsguard did not expect to hear those words. "Prisoner?" he repeated. "You are not a prisoner, your Highness."

"Of course I am," Jon said back. "However King Rhaegar wants to pretend it is, the truth remains the same. I am a prisoner to keep Lord Stark from waging war against the royal family. So I shall be a prisoner."

"You are not a prisoner, my prince," Arthur told him sternly, coming off his bended knee.

"I am. I have been taken against my will and held hostage here in the Red Keep."

"No, that's not it."

He looked at him hard. "Then let me leave and go home."

The Sword of the Morning could not look him in the eyes. "You are home, Prince Daemon."

"No, I'm not. And that is not my name."

"Your Highness—"

He turned his head away. "My name is Jon Snow. My father is Lord Eddard Stark. I don't know who my mother is."

Arthur could not believe that those words were said. "That's not true. You know who your mother is, my prince. She is Lyanna Stark."

"My name is Jon Snow. My father is Lord Eddard Stark. I don't know who my mother is."

"She is Lyanna Stark, your Highness. Lord Stark is not your father. He's your uncle."

But he would not accept it. He only said again, "My name is Jon Snow. My father is Lord Eddard Stark. I don't know who my mother is."

Anger began to burn through Arthur as he heard those words a third time. How dare the boy dismiss his own mother like she was nothing? After all she had done to bring him into this world, he would deny the simple fact? An urge to throttle him until he saw and admitted the truth made his hands itch. But he stopped himself before he could even stretch them out towards the boy.

What was he thinking? He was a knight of the Kingsguard. They did not harm the royal family. They protected them from those who would harm them. And while Jon Snow might deny it, the truth was that he was Prince Daemon Targaryen, now and forever. "Your family will be here soon, Prince Daemon," he finally said. "Your father will be able to explain things to you better than me."

There was no reply from the boy. He was more content to look out the window at the bay. Arthur took that silence to mean he was dismissed. He left the room, closing the door behind him. Then, he took his post beside the door. He did his duty as a Kingsguard.

* * *

In the days that followed, he and the other two Kingsguard in the capital had hoped that he would eventually come out and try to know what the Red Keep looked like. But the door stayed shut and would not open, save for food. A seamstress had been sent to him the day before so he could have new clothes, only for her to leave not ten minutes afterwards in frustrated anger.

Arthur, Oswell, and Ser Gerold had each taken their turn to try and coax the boy out of the room. But the offers of clothes, better food, exploring the castle, and even training would not have the door open. The only response they got from him was whenever they called him by his true name and it was the same thing every time. "My name is Jon Snow. My father is Lord Eddard Stark. I don't know who my mother is."

When the royal family rode into the Red Keep, they were there to greet them but without the prince. "Good day to you, my king," Ser Gerold greeted King Rhaegar as he dismounted. Queen Elia and her children followed suit, same as Princess Daenerys. The only one missing from Riverrun was Prince Viserys, as expected.

"Good day, Ser Gerold," the king said back. "How has the castle been since we left?"

"It is well, your Grace, but it is also glad to have the royal family back. Was the ride back from Riverrun eventful?"

He shook his head. "It was not, thank the Seven."

Oswell looked at the rest of the people coming through the gate. There were quite a lot of them, more so than just the royal procession. "Are there other noble lords who have joined you from Riverrun, your Grace?" he asked.

"Some, but only those who still have farther to ride," Rhaegar answered. "I've offered them the hospitality of the Red Keep until they're ready to ride on."

" _That might be longer than any of us would want,"_ Arthur thought to himself. He saw the Tyrell banner amongst the people coming in. Lady Margaery probably wouldn't leave until she had married Prince Aegon.

Elia walked up beside her husband. "Sers, where is Prince Daemon?" she asked them, looking around subtly. "We would have thought that he would be here to greet his family."

It was a good thing that the three of them had formulated a reason he wasn't there beforehand. "The prince felt tired, my queen," Ser Hightower answered. "He found his bed and could not be stirred from it."

"I still think we should've used the bucket of water on him," Oswell muttered loudly.

He fixed the man with a look even as Prince Aegon and his sister sniggered. "He is a prince of the blood, Ser Oswell. We do not harm them."

"How is water going to harm him?"

"It will be fine, Ser Whent," Rhaegar told him. "We are all tired. Tonight we shall rest and speak with Prince Daemon on the morrow."

He went into Maegor's Holdfast. Arthur fell in behind him as normal. He followed in silence, even if he knew alongside Oswell and Ser Gerold that the next morning would not make things easier. If anything, it was going to be just as difficult.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

Yeah, there was a reason Mark Ryswell stayed in King's Landing. He didn't stay because he was bored of Ned Stark's company. Here's hoping this surprised you guys.

I know that I'm making Ned Stark out to be something that we all know he really isn't. But that's the point. For most of the characters in this story, they've either A: never met him, or B: barely met him. That, plus all of the rumors floating around about him, will make people think he's dangerous if provoked.

It is a little fun to catch Varys off-guard. But it's not how the man is caught off-guard but how he reacts and recovers from that kind of thing that shows just how good he is at his job. The way I see things, a good spymaster would publically accept the fact that he got hoodwinked and then make sure it's the absolute truth.

That's line Jon's repeating? That's pretty much going to set the tone for his being in King's Landing. This should be interesting.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 29: Elia

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: King's Landing)

She felt the warmth of the sun on her skin as she woke up. The sun in the Crownlands was less warm then the Dornish heat she had grown up with but it still felt pleasant to her. She came awake slowly, like a cat that awoke while dozing on a sunlit perch. She found herself halfway between sleep and wakefulness. It was a place that she enjoyed being in.

She looked across the bed and saw a woman's back facing her. Brown curls covered the pale skin like a curtain. Despite not seeing her face, she knew who it was. Her heart swelled with love. It was Lyanna. She was here, with her. With a sleepy smile, she reached out her fingers to touch her. "Good morning," she said in a whisper.

But before her finger could touch her, before she could feel her and know that she was there, Queen Elia became fully awake. Her finger would touch nothing but air. She stared at the empty space where Lyanna had been only a second before. The first time this had happened, she had struck the pillows, cursing the Seven for giving her the dream only to snatch it away before she could feel her. That had been four and ten years ago. Now, she just laid in the bed, tears unshed in her eyes.

She had met Lyanna at Harrenhal, the same as Rhaegar. At first, she had been intrigued by the Northern girl, so unlike the ladies that surrounded her as the princess and queen-in-waiting. She was so frank, said what was on her mind, and was unapologetic about it. She didn't pay much attention to herself yet it seemed to make her all the more eye-catching. Perhaps that was what drew the eyes of the men to her when she passed, the effortless beauty.

But she had been intrigued only, thinking of the girl in passing. It wasn't until that night after the joust, when Lyanna had snuck into her room to give her the crown, her perception of the girl changed. She had lied to the Starks at Riverrun about the night. Lyanna did try to leave once her piece was said but Elia had stopped her before she could even get to the door.

She asked her to stay and talk with her. Lyanna had looked clearly confused but complied. They talked about their lives, their homes, and their futures until the sun came up. Lyanna had confessed to her that she wasn't sure of her impending marriage to Robert Baratheon, how bleak her future seemed to be. But as much as she wanted to stay away from him, she could not disobey her lord father, and she didn't want to disappoint her brother Ned.

When the dawn started to peek past the window, she tried again to leave, saying she had overstayed her welcome. Elia stood up with her but did not let her leave. The more they had talked, the more she had found the Northern girl interesting, until the point she had felt half in love already. When she had stood in the moonlight, her beauty almost became otherworldly and Elia became undone. So she walked around the table and kissed the girl full on the lips.

It was a move that caught Lyanna by surprise. At first her body struggled against hers but it quickly stopped resisting. She pulled the girl's hips closer to her and they responded willingly. She remembered them standing against the table, their bodies flushed against each other, their breathing heavy. All Elia could see was Lyanna, her hair wild and free, her scent of snow, wood, and clean air. Even though the years have passed, she could still remember the words that she said. "Say the word, Lyanna. Say the word and you will never marry Robert Baratheon. Please say it and love me instead." She had wanted her to say the word so desperately. She had lit a fire in her that she had only seen in Oberyn. She wanted the fire to keep burning, to keep Lyanna with her.

But Lyanna hadn't said the word. Instead she stepped away from the princess and begged her leave. Her grey eyes were alight with wonder and slight lust, but mostly fear. Before Elia could say anything to stop her, she turned and practically fled through the door. When Rhaegar had found her later that morning and explained why he had given Lyanna the crown, she accepted his reasoning. But she also knew just by the look in his eyes when he spoke of the Northern girl that he was in love with her too. She made him reveal the truth of it and when he did, she told him the same was true for her.

Before the Starks had left Harrenhal, Elia had found Lyanna again. She did not apologize for the kiss she gave the girl, only to ask her if she would be able to write to her. She agreed hesitantly and her family rode back North. Both Elia and Rhaegar wrote to her afterwards. Separately at first but soon they collaborated together in their words to the girl they both loved. It was those letters that made Lyanna love them just as much as they did her.

Elia was aware that Rhaegar had married Lyanna on the Isle of Face when she supposedly came south to marry Robert Baratheon. She also knew that Rhaegar would take her next to King's Landing. She had watched the ship carrying them both sail into King's Landing with nervous anticipation. As soon as she met them both inside the Red Keep, inside their chambers, she kissed them both passionately. That night, the three of them consummated Lyanna's marriage. The girl was a maiden but they loved her long and hard through the night, the bed they shared filled with the moans and groans of lust-filled pleasure. The shrieks and yells that should've come, they kept quiet so no one would hear them.

The next morning, when Elia awoke, she didn't see Lyanna next to her. A panicked moment later and she saw the girl standing at the window, already dressed for the day. The pleasure that had engulfed her face was gone. She was worried about what they had done, what it would do to her family, to Robert, how they would react. Elia comforted her, telling her that everything would be alright. She took her back to the bed, stripped her out of the clothes gently, and just as gently laid her down as Rhaegar woke up. The night had savage and intense but that morning, they made love to Lyanna slow and gently. When she fell back asleep between them, in that moment they were content.

What came next wasn't supposed to happen. Rhaegar took Lyanna to Dorne to protect her. When Elia learned she was pregnant, she was elated. But then she learned of the tower burning with her and her daughter inside and she stained her pillows with her tears. Neither she nor Rhaegar were allowed to see the ashes. Eddard Stark sailed into King's Landing to resupply, leaving for the North as soon as he could.

Now they knew the truth. He had left because he was carrying Lyanna's child with him, a child she would've gladly raised as her own. He took that child from his true family and hid him away in the North, presenting him as his bastard. _"If Daemon had never left Winterfell, we never would've known about him,"_ she thought to herself. But he was here now, with his true family. As she rose from the bed and dressed for the day, she looked forward to meeting him at breakfast.

She and Rhaegar were the first to arrive at the breakfast table. It was in a room close to the Queen's Ballroom. It was big enough to hold the entire family yet small enough to retain privacy amongst them. Sunlight spilled from the glass, filling the room with its light. They had been eating in this room since Aegon could sit in his own chair. It was a way of getting some family time together before the trials of the day set upon them.

Dany and Rhaella came in together, sitting down at the table filled with food. It took Aegon and Rhaenys a little longer to come in and when they did, they were both too busy with their own thoughts. Elia knew why they were like that. They had been in that mood since they rode from Riverrun. They were still coming to terms with the fact they had a new brother.

"Good morning, you two," Rhaegar said to their children. He had a fatherly smile on his lips as he watched them take their seats.

Rhaenys didn't answer first as she normally did. It left Aegon to say, "Good morning, Father." He did not say the words with his usual warmth and did not look at either of them as he sat down. His sister mirrored his actions as she sat down beside him.

They all sat in silence, waiting for the king to reach for his utensils. Only then they dared to start to eat. But the silence dragged on and on. Elia knew why they waited. The family wasn't all there. One person needed to walk through that door. As time dragged on and no person came through, she started to worry. _"Where's Daemon?"_ she asked herself.

She looked at Rhaegar and saw he had the same look of worry too. "Ser Gerold," he called out to the Kingsguard standing outside.

The White Bull stepped inside and knelt down to one knee. "Yes, your Grace?" he asked.

"We did ask for Prince Daemon to join us, did we not?"

"You did, your Grace."

"Well, where is he then?"

The knight bowed his head, almost in shame. "Your Grace, I'm afraid that we have not been entirely truthful."

Elia frowned. That did not bode well. "What do you mean by that, Ser Gerold?"

"Yesterday, Prince Daemon did not come down to greet you because he was tired. Ever since he has awoken, he has not left his chambers."

It was news that surprised and her husband. Rhaella looked surprised too. "What?" Rhaegar said.

"He has not left his chambers, to train in the yard, take lessons with the maester, or pray to the gods. We know he eats the food he's been given but it's only a few pieces."

"Why is he doing this?"

The Kingsguard did not lift his head from the floor. "He seems to believe that he is your prisoner, your Grace."

He thought himself a prisoner in his own home? That wasn't right. Daemon should think himself safe. "Why would he think such a thing?" Aegon asked. Her son's voice wasn't cloaked in disbelief but in curiosity.

"Aegon, you know why he would think such a thing," Rhaenys told him bitterly. "We had him kidnapped and brought here against his will."

The queen could see how it would look like that. But that wasn't the case. "Rhaenys, we brought him to safety," she told her daughter. "If we hadn't, he would've gone to Winterfell and we would have never seen him again."

Dany frowned. "But we hadn't seen him before Riverrun."

"We all thought he was dead, Daenerys," her mother told her quietly.

"We also all thought that he was supposed to be a girl named Visenya," Rhaenys said, still sounding so bitter.

Rhaegar spoke, "That is why we brought hm home. If he was allowed to leave with the Starks, he would've gone back to the life of a bastard. That is not who he is. He's not the bastard son of Eddard Stark."

"No, he's just your bastard son from Lyanna Stark."

"Rhaenys!" her father snapped instantly. "He is your brother." She fell silent but glared at him stubbornly.

Elia didn't know where this hostility suddenly came from. She had thought that her daughter had some affection for Daemon when he was just Jon Snow. Was it different now? But before she could take care of that question, there was something else that needed to be done about the wayward son. "Ser Gerold, has Prince Daemon been given breakfast yet?"

"No, your Grace, not yet," the knight said. "We knew that you wished to have him here to dine with you. We told him as much earlier this morning. But we heard no reaction from within."

"I see. Then I shall take a tray up to him."

"My queen, it should be I to take the tray," Rhaegar told her, standing from his chair.

She shook her head. "No, my king, it should be me. If Daemon sees you, it will only deepen his belief of being a prisoner. I believe that I can make it easier for him to come and join us." She signaled one of the servants to make a tray ready.

It wasn't heavy when she took it in hand, but she could still feel the weight of it. She had Ser Gerold led her to Daemon's chambers. The door before her looked like the rest of the doors inside the Red Keep, made of aged oak. But she had a feeling that beyond the door was something else, something that she was not ready for. She ignored it, thinking it nothing but a passing feeling.

She nodded to Ser Gerold and she walked in. "Daemon?" she called out as the door closed behind her. She saw Daemon standing at the balcony, looking out at the Blackwater. He didn't turn to face her when he heard her speak. "Daemon?" she said again. "It's Elia. I have breakfast."

He didn't turn around, keeping his face towards the open air. Even when a loud growling sound erupted in the room and she knew it wasn't from her, he did not move. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Really, Daemon, this is not needed. I have brought breakfast for you. If you are hungry, eat." Still, he did not move from the balcony. "Daemon—"

"That's not my name," he finally spoke, his quiet voice cutting across hers.

It made her stop what she was saying. She was also puzzled by his words. Of course it was his name. It was the name that she, Lyanna, and Rhaegar had agreed to name the child she carried if he turned out to be a boy. But he would deny the name? _"Ah, of course,"_ she realized. _"He grew up all this time thinking his name was Jon."_ Well, if it would get him to eat some food, she would indulge him. But he would have to acknowledge his true name sooner or later. "Very well, Jon, I do have some food for you. Although, we would much rather prefer it if you were to eat with us."

"Us?" he asked. He must've realized too late that he had spoken for he clamped down tight on his mouth.

But she had heard him all the same. She smiled and said, "Your family." He didn't say anything back nor did he move from his spot. "Jon, please, you're safe with us. We only want to get to know you. What do you expect from us?"

"To be thrown into the black cells any day," he answered with a tone of finality.

The tone angered her. "Stop that! You are not going to be sent into the black cells. We would never do that to you. You are a Targaryen. You are a part of this family."

He still didn't say anything. She stared angrily at his back. But she realized something. If she looked at the situation from his perspective, the only thing that changed was the castle. _"He still thinks himself a bastard of the family,"_ she thought to herself. _"He thinks that I am just like Catelyn Stark."_ She burned with anger at that assumption. The Tully words might be Family, Duty, Honor, but they were just another house north of Dorne. They treated bastards like they weren't supposed to be there.

But Dorne wasn't like that. She wasn't like that. "Jon, do you think that I am like Catelyn Stark?" she asked him. "Do you think I would hate because you are not of my womb?"

His answer was a little surprising. "If what you say is true, then I would be a threat to your son's claim," he said shortly. "You would be well within your rights to hate me."

"That will never happen. I already told you that I promised your mother that whatever child she brought into this world, whether it was a boy or a girl, I would love it like it was one of my own. That is still true. I will love you just like I loved Lyanna. She would not want you to wallow here in these chambers. She would want you to come out and meet your family."

"You don't know what she would have wanted."

She almost sighed at his naivety. He had never met his mother but she had. Both she and Rhaegar had known and loved her so much that they were willing to leave a dragon's egg, one of the last in House Targaryen's grasp, with her in the Tower of Joy. When she heard how the tower burned, she knew that the egg had been destroyed, just like Lyanna. "I knew her. I talked to her, kissed her lips, and held her like someone I loved, the same as Rhaegar. We both knew her and we both loved her. She would have wanted us to share that love with her child, with you. That is what we want to do but you have to let us."

He was silent. She saw it as him considering her words. She pressed the advantage and stepped closer to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. "We want to love you, Daemon, and for you to have the same love for us. Please, join us for breakfast."

He finally turned to face her and she was struck by the iron-colored eyes looking at her. He didn't look like his mother but rather his uncle instead. "My name is Jon Snow. My father is Lord Eddard Stark. I don't know who my mother is."

Those words were astounding as they were anger-inducing. "You are not Jon Snow," she told him. "You are Prince Daemon Targaryen."

"My name is Jon Snow. My father is Lord Eddard Stark. I don't know who my mother is."

"He is not your father. Your father is Rhaegar Targaryen."

"My name is Jon Snow. My father is Lord Eddard Stark. I don't know who my mother is."

"You do know," she said, heat coloring her voice. It was arguing and pleading mixed into one. She wanted him to see the truth, to know it. "You do know who your mother was. She's Lyanna. You are her son. You are my son. You are Daemon." He started to turn from her. She held him by the shoulders and made him look at her. "You know who you are. Don't deny us this."

He stared at her. His face was stern and cold, his eyes two unforgiving steel orbs. "My name is Jon Snow. My father is Lord Eddard Stark. I don't know who my mother is."

Her anger boiled at those words. How she wanted to make him understand that he was family. She wanted to shake him until any notion of him being a bastard wolf was gone from his head. She shared that kind of anger with Oberyn. But she also had Doran's temperance and she knew that if she tried to force it, he would only burrow deeper into his delusion.

She let go of him and stepped away. "The tray is on the table," she told him. "But we would rather have you join us for breakfast." He didn't answer, turning back to face the open world. If he could look north, he would probably do so. "If you wish to leave these chambers, you may. The Red Keep is open to you. You are not a prisoner here."

"Then let me go home," he said shortly.

"You are home, Daemon," she told him gently. "You're with your family."

"No, I'm not."

She stared at his back, wanting him to turn around so he could see her. She wanted to give him a hug and enfold him in the love he deserved. But he would not give her any of it. _"Oh Lyanna, look at your son,"_ she bemoaned in silence. _"He's back with his family but he does not believe it. He would reject the love we give for a lie your brother fed him. Would you weep at this sight? Or would you make him leave the room to join us?"_ How she wished that she was here to talk to her son. But if she had been here, Daemon would have grown up believing this lie. She turned and walked for the door. As she reached the door, she saw something in the corner of her eye. It almost looked like a cloaked person was looking at Daemon from the shadows. But when she turned her head, there was no one there.

* * *

Throughout the day, she had servants keep an eye on Lyanna's son. She wanted to know if he would eventually leave his chambers. But every report she got said the same thing: he was still inside.

But there was another thing she learned throughout the day: her daughter's foul temper at breakfast had not stopped servants gave her tales of how Rhaenys would snap at anyone who dared rouse her temper. Her handmaidens were afraid to go near her and the servants would leave as soon as they were able.

As the afternoon slowly turned into evening, Elia went to find her daughter. She knew where she would be, in her chambers. She entered and found Rhaenys sitting before the fire, watching it burn. Balerion, the cat she had since she was a little girl, lounged in her lap while she stroked his fur. That cat had been a terror when it was a kitten, only liking Rhaenys. Now it was an old grump who still only liked Rhaenys.

It lifted its head and stared at Elia with a suspicious look. Rhaenys turned her head too. "Mother," she said in greeting.

"Rhaenys is there something that needs to be said?" she asked her daughter.

"No." She looked back to the fire, stroking her cat.

"I've been hearing of how you've acted today. You've scared off everyone else that dares to come close to you. And we both know that is not who you are. Now, are you willing to answer me truthfully this time?"

Her daughter didn't answer her, choosing to continue to stare into the fire. She waited in silence, folding her arms. The only thing that made a sound in the room was the crackling of the fireplace. She watched her daughter with an eye that bored into her. It was something that she learned from her own mother. It was quite effective whenever she wanted Oberyn to confess to whatever mischief he got into.

It wasn't her daughter who broke first but rather Balerion. The old cat decided that it had enough petting, jumped down gingerly to the floor, padded over to where the sunlight warmed a patch of floor. It fell down inside the light and within seconds was sleeping. Rhaenys looked at it and then at her. "What do you want me to say?" she asked curtly.

"I want to know why you've been acting like this," Elia told her. "This is not the Rhaenys I know and raised. That Rhaenys is a girl who does not lose her temper at the slightest word or smallest comment. So why is it that they all see that girl?"

She looked back at the fire but could not keep her gaze there long. "I'm sorry, Mother," she said with a sigh. As she sighed, she all but sagged into her chair. "It's just…" She tried to say the words but they could not leave her mouth.

But Elia knew all the same. "Is it about Daemon?"

She winced at the name. "Don't call him that."

"It's his name, dear."

She looked conflicted as she spoke. "It's not the name I know he had. I thought his name was Jon Snow."

"That is probably what Lord Stark wanted everyone to believe his name was, Rhaenys," Elia told her. "He took away your brother's name and gave him a false one instead." In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to have Eddard Stark before her. She would throttle him, have him torture for denying them Daemon.

But her words didn't seem to comfort Rhaenys. She got up from her chair and stepped closer to the fire. "Still, the name sounds wrong," she said, not to her mother but more to herself. "It's just…wrong."

She suddenly struck the mantle hard enough to make it rattle. Elia was surprised by the move but even more so when she saw tears coming down her cheeks. "Rhaenys, why are you crying?" She rarely cried and not to anyone.

"I'm," Rhaenys said with a tear-choked voice, "I'm a monster."

When she heard those words, her mother's temper flared again. She wanted to find who dared call her child a monster and make them take those words back. But she saw regret and shame in Rhaenys's eyes. She realized that it was her daughter calling herself that. "You are not a monster," she said, taking a step towards her.

"I am."

"You are not."

"But I am. Who else but a monster would dare to fall in love with their own brother? I'm nothing better than a beast because of it!"

She grabbed hold of her daughter and made her look her in the eyes. "You are not a monster, Rhaenys. You are not a beast."

"Yes, I am," she said back, tears shining in her eyes. "If he is really my brother, I am a monster for loving Jon. I wanted him at Riverrun, Mother. I saw him under the moonlight and I wanted him. I wanted to take him away from what caused him misery. I wanted to take him to a place where it was only us. I wanted to take him to a bed and show him nothing and my love for me. I wanted to have him, again and again. Gods save me, I still do!" she all but screamed out those last words.

The queen did not know if this was because she fell in love for a bastard and still thought of him as such or because she was a Targaryen. Even so, she could see how her daughter was conflicted. She fell in love with someone she thought was a bastard. And now he was her brother instead. The gods looked down at such feelings. But they were Targaryens. Who they loved was no concern of the gods. "Is it so wrong to love Daemon?" she asked Rhaenys.

Through her tears, she made a face. "I don't love him like a brother, Mother. I love him like a woman should love a man. When I offered it to him at Riverrun, he refused me. He said that I needed someone who would treat me with what I deserved, not a bastard who had nothing. I suggested that we run away and he refused, saying that we would not last. He asked me to end the love we might've had right there. But I couldn't." The tears started to leak out slowly. "I love him, Mother. I don't care if he's a bastard or supposedly my brother. I love him. I want him but I know that I can't."

"And that's why you are so short-tempered today," Elia said, realizing it as she spoke.

"Yes. I'm sorry, Mother."

She hugged her daughter and she held to her like she would leave and never come back. "It's alright, Rhaenys," she assured her. "It's alright."

"How?" she asked, sounding like she was still trying not to cry. "How will it be alright?"

"I will speak to your father. I have an idea that will make you happy."

"What idea?"

She smiled. "You forget what House Targaryen is known for, Rhaenys." Her daughter pulled back from her. Her dark eyes were wide with realization. Elia nodded. "Yes. If your father agrees, you will have Daemon, just like you wanted."

"What about him?" Rhaenys asked, still unsure. "What would he think about it?"

"Did he love you?"

"He didn't say as much, but I thought I could see it in his eyes."

"Then he will find no objections to it, once he accepts that he is home." She wiped away the tears. "So there's no need to cry and be rude to all, Rhaenys. Everything will work out in the end." Her daughter was still unsure but she agreed all the same. Elia left the room, knowing that Rhaegar would accept the idea. He wasn't keen on the custom of his house, but even he could see that this would be an ideal way to bring Daemon into the fold and have him accept what the truth was.

" _He's home, Lyanna,"_ she said silently to her lover's spirit. _"Our son is home and soon, he will be a part of the family again."_ And he would love them, and Rhaenys, for how they will bring him back.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

And now you know just how Rhaegar wasn't the only one who loved Lyanna. Elia loved her so much that she's seeing her ghost every time she wakes up in the morning.

Of course, just because Jon (or Daemon, depending on whose side you're on) is in King's Landing doesn't mean it's going to be easy going from there. They'll see it in time.

I'm probably stretching the fact that Balerion is still alive, given the average lifespan. But I'm banking on the idea that cat is one stubborn feline. Plus, I believe he is the same cat that Arya was chasing around the Red Keep, so there is some evidence he lived that long.

You all have probably already guessed what custom Elia was talking about. You guys have been rather divided on the whole idea. I wonder how it's going to turn out as I progress.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	30. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 30: Quentyn

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: King's Landing)

Ever since the revelation of Jon Dualfang being King Rhaegar's son, Quentyn had his doubts about it. It just seemed too perfect, too easy to be true. He wasn't the only one who thought the same. At least he thought he wasn't. The court in the Red Keep felt divided in opinions. Some looked as if they believed what the king had said about Jon Snow. Some didn't believe it. And there were a few who show any kind of opinion.

The Dornish who had come to King's Landing had the same kinds of reaction, none more so than his own family. His cousins were divided on the matter. The elder Sand Snakes seemed to think that it didn't matter whether Jon was Lord Stark's bastard or the king's. He was still a bastard. But the three youngest snakes all thought that he was the king's son because the king had said it was so. To them, King Rhaegar was a kind and loving uncle who treated them lovingly. They thought the world of him.

The ones who were truly divided were the ones he had thought would be the most firm: Uncle Oberyn and Arianne. His uncle had made no attempt to hide the fact that he intensely disliked the North and all who came from there because of what happened with Lyanna. Quentyn had always thought that it was a little hypocritical of him to be that way since he had a paramour and several bastards. But his father had told him that the hatred came more from hating the king betraying Aunt Elia so. Another stem of it was that Oberyn loved Elia to the degree of idealizing her, thinking that she shouldn't be the same as him.

But when Jon was revealed to be Prince Daemon, Quentyn's uncle was enraged not just at the fact that Rhaegar fathered a child on Lyanna Stark, but he was also bold enough to give him a trueborn name. That same night, Aunt Elia came to the Martell chambers. She stopped Oberyn from doing something regretful by saying she had loved Lyanna just as much as her husband and she considered Jon her son too. Oberyn hadn't talked about the matter since.

Arianne was also conflicted but Quentyn knew that it was for a completely different reason. To her, Jon had been a bastard she could play for at Riverrun. She played for the conquest as she usually did, thinking of Jon as just another man for her to win. The change didn't come with the revelation but during the night she tried to threaten Sansa Stark. Quentyn had seen the cold fury in Jon's eyes that night and he knew that his sister would never have him after that moment. She still played the game but she knew just as well she had lost.

And now, he was a prince instead of a bastard. He was someone the same rank as her, if not higher. Instead of being someone to play and toy with, he was a potential match to wed. Of course, if it came to that, Quentyn knew that Jon would refuse, just like Prince Viserys had done. It seemed that most men considered his sister a beauty, until she opened her mouth and ruined the image.

" _You shouldn't say such things,"_ he told himself as he walked down the corridor. _"She's your sister. She's family."_ Was it ironic that he accepted that as truth while his sister, uncle, and the elder Sand Snakes seemed content for dragging him through the mud because he said Lord Yronwood was a good foster father once? The only ones who hadn't done it were his father, Trystane, Ellaria, and her three youngest children.

He passed a servant as he turned a corner. He quickly realized that it wasn't just any servant. It was Mya Stone. "Mya," he called after her. If there was anyone who could help him, it would be her.

She stopped and looked at him. "Prince Quentyn," she said with a small curtesy. "Can I help you?"

"Can you show me where Jon is?"

"Jon, your Highness?" she asked. She sounded confused but only just.

But he saw past it. She knew exactly who he was talking about. "Are we really going to play this little game?"

"I don't know what you mean by that, your Highness."

He sighed. Fine, if that was how it was going to be, he would keep up appearances. "Prince Daemon, Mya. Do you know where he is?"

"Oh yes, I do."

"Can you take me to him?"

She looked quickly down each corridor. He wondered why she would do that when they already knew that people would be listening. Was it all for the show of it? She leaned in close and whispered, "I can take you to his rooms, but he refuses to come out."

He figured that was because Jon was having a hard time with what happened. "He needs a friend," he whispered back.

"Are you a friend?"

"You know I am."

She regarded him with a brief look. "If you'll follow me, your Highness," she said more loudly. She started down the corridor he came from. He went after her.

She led him through corridors and stairwells. Other people, servants and courtiers, passed them but paid them no great attention. At least it didn't seem like it at the first glance. But Quentyn was sure that some of them were looking from the corners of their eyes at the two of them. They came to a stop outside a door where Ser Jaime stood guard. "Prince Quentyn and Mya Stone," the Kingsguard said as he looked at them both. "What can I do for you?"

Mya stepped back, leaving Quentyn to look at the Lannister. "It's not you I have business with, ser," he said politely. "I would like to enter the room."

"Oh, so you're the next one who's going to see if you can coax him out of there?" There was a slight mocking smile on his lips as he spoke. It was as if he already knew the outcome and found it amusing that Quentyn was even trying to attempt this.

"I only wish to walk to him, ser. May I pass?"

"I will not stop you." That smile was still on his lips. He was expecting something to happen and he was waiting to enjoy it.

Quentyn did not give him the satisfaction of looking him in the eye. He opened the door and walked in. The chamber looked much like the rooms set aside for his family, but for only one person. "Jon?" he called out, closing the door behind him.

His friend came out from the bedroom, his grey eyes showing his surprise. "Quentyn?" he said, making it sound as a question.

He smiled at his friend. "Hello, Jon." Until he was ordered to or otherwise, he would address him as he knew him. He didn't really look like a Daemon anyway.

Jon crossed the room and pulled him into a tight hug. "Gods, it's good to see you, Quentyn," he declared. "I didn't think I would see a familiar face."

They stopped hugging and looked at each other. "Have they been treating you well?" The Northman certainly looked alright. His clothes weren't ratty and he didn't look like he was starving.

"Aye, I am." He looked back at the room. "Although I didn't expect this," he added.

"What did you expect?"

"Waking up in the black cells, wondering what I had done to be there," he told Quentyn. "I still expect them to toss me down there soon."

"They're not going to do that."

"Why? Because of this insane belief they've somehow sprouted at the sight of me?" he asked. The way he spoke showed that he didn't believe what the king said. It was full of anger and disbelief.

Quentyn didn't come here to discuss that with him. It looked like he had talked about it enough. "Have you left these rooms?" he asked, looking around. It was suitable for a prince, decked in the red and black of House Targaryen, but he would've thought it'd be closer to the rest of the royal family.

"No."

"Why haven't you?"

"I'm a prisoner here."

His frank statement didn't sit well with the comfort of the chambers. He could tell the table and chairs were made from the finest wood. He looked at the balcony past the table and all he saw was the bay. "I find it hard to believe that you're a prisoner here, Jon." Then again, there was Jaime Lannister standing guard outside.

"What else would I be here?"

Quentyn didn't answer that. They both knew the answer to that. Jon was being treated like a prince because the king thought him to be his son. It was just his dismissal of the king's word, and the queen's, that kept him in here. "If you can leave the room, why don't you?"

He looked confused. "Prisoners can't leave their cells, Quentyn. Not unless they're trying to escape."

"I don't think you're a prisoner."

He turned his eyes to the door. "There's a guard outside my door." He made the sentence sound as if it was enough of an explanation.

While it was enough, Quentyn did not say that it was a Kingsguard outside the door. It was an obvious fact. "Have you tried walking out the door?"

"What would be the point if I can't leave to go back to the North? They won't me leave."

"If you consider yourself a prisoner, why haven't you tried escaping?" It seemed like the best practice if he chose to keep this up. A prisoner should always try to escape, shouldn't he?

Jon took his eyes away from the door. There was sadness, almost a longing in his eyes. "I want to escape but I don't know my way around the Red Keep or even King's Landing. They would probably find me before I could even get out the gate. My life would be forfeit at that moment."

So he wasn't trying to escape because he was afraid for his life? That was both human and yet, seemingly unlike Jon. "That's the only reason?" Quentyn dared to ask him.

He paused and looked back out the balcony. "No, that's not the only reason," he said, his voice becoming sad. "I don't want my family to hear of my death because I tried to escape. Staying here, I can hope for the chance that I'll be able to go home and see them again."

Hearing that kind of reasoning eased Quentyn's curiosity. If there was one thing he knew about Jon Dualfang, it was that he loved his family. He might be staying to keep his own hide intact, but he was also staying so the Starks would not hear about his death. Lady Stark might not think highly of him but his brothers and sisters would.

Seeing him looking like a caged animal when it was the opposite, the Martell prince made a choice. "Come on, Jon," he said. "Let's head down to the training yard."

The Northman looked confused at his words. "Why?"

"You look like you could use a good spar and I do too."

"Quentyn, I'm a prisoner. I can't leave."

"Have you tried?"

He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out first. "…No," he said after a silent moment.

That was enough for him. "I'm not asking you to try and run, Jon. I'm asking my friend for a spar. It'd be good for you to get out of this room and work your sword arm." He saw the flash of desire in his friend's eyes and knew he had him. "Come on."

It took Jon another second to say, "Alright."

When they walked out of the room, Ser Jaime looked rather surprised. They didn't stop to hear what he could possibly say. They kept walking and the Kingsguard was forced to follow them. The training yard was empty when they reached it. Quentyn thought it a mercy. If it had been full, Jon might've turned and ran back for his chambers.

"What do you think?" he asked his friend. "Shall we do swords?"

"I'll take a sword," Jon said, heading to a weapon rack and taking a sword from it. "If you want to use something else, go ahead." He tested the sword by giving it a few experimental swings. "Also, no armor," he added.

"No armor," repeated the Dornish of the two, pulling down a spear. "That's dangerous."

"I'm not going to kill you, Quentyn. Are you going to kill me?" He was loosening up, becoming more like the Jon he had known in Riverrun.

"I hope not."

He smiled briefly. "We should be fine then."

Once they were sure of the weapons, they stepped out to the courtyard. Jon became serious as he brought his sword to the ready position. Quentyn leveled the spear but did not move. He tried that the last time they sparred and he almost ended up in the Trident. He knew that Jon would pace around him, like a wolf stalking prey. He kept still, watching the Northerner walk around.

They struck at the same time, sword meeting spear. The sound echoed in the air as it usually did. Neither of them tried to press their weight against the other. They exchanged a few strikes, light attacks to test reactions and responses. Some might consider it foolish since he had already sparred with Jon and knew what he could do. But Quentyn had learned from both his father and uncle that it was never foolish to test the skills of the man facing him. Clearly, Jon had gotten the same lesson.

"Are you all warmed up?" he asked the Northman.

"Aye, I am. You?" asked Jon.

"Yes." He could feel the slight burn in his arms and how his breath quickened. He was ready for this to be a proper fight.

"Good." That was all he said before he stepped in close fast and swung down from above.

Quentyn saw it coming, as he should've, and replied. He swung his spear upwards. It caught the blade, stopping the swing. He used the momentum to push the sword down to the ground, swinging the shaft at Jon. It took him in the side but he didn't react to it.

He pulled his sword back and held it in the ready position. Quentyn pressed the attack, checking his defense. It was sound, stopping his strikes. Jon quickly changed the tempo and attacked again. He moved away, spinning his spear out of reach. The Northman stopped his attack. "What was that?" he asked.

"What was what?"

"That move you just did. I've never seen anything like it."

He looked at the spear, held in one hand. "Just a little Rhoynar style of fighting," he answered. "Oberyn taught it to me." And despite what people might say or believe, he was his uncle's best student under the spear.

"Looks a little frivolous to me," remarked Jon.

"Frivolous?" he repeated. He probably should've been offended. Instead he just smiled. "I'll show you frivolous."

They moved to attack again. This time, Quentyn brought more of his family's style into the fight. It was meant to distract and confuse, all the spinning and twirling. Soon, he brought his own body into it. He would twist his body out of the way of any strikes or cuts Jon might try to give him. All the while he would wait for the opportunity to strike and take it.

Jon wasn't distracted by what he did. His eyes stayed focused on him. He would attack when he could and step away when he was forced. The dance they had went around the yard but they paid no attention to it. To them, there was only the man in front of them. That was all that mattered. The worries, the fears, the doubts, they all faded away until there was nothing left but the spar.

The feeling came to an abrupt end when they came together in a clash, getting close enough to see each other in the eye. Suddenly, they heard a clapping sound off to the side. It brought them back to the world around them. Quentyn turned his head and saw his uncle standing there. "An impressive display to be sure," he said, finishing his clapping.

Jon pulled his sword free and stepped away. "Prince Oberyn," he said respectfully.

He ignored him and looked at Quentyn. "And here I thought that you never took to my lessons, Quentyn," he remarked, walking to him. Quentyn saw his uncle's eyes looking at him closely, like he was examining someone he might fight soon.

It was a look that could chill a person but Quentyn did not give him the pleasure of a flinch. "Despite what you might think, Uncle, I do listen and I do pay attention."

"I have seen that for myself." He looked briefly with an amused smile "Of course, so have they."

Quentyn followed his uncle's gaze and was startled by just how many people were surrounding the yard, both on the ground and in the windows above. While all the eyes of the ladies and the boys were on Jon, he saw how the knights were looking at him with judging looks. They were measuring him, to see what he would be like on the battlefield. He felt rather proud they were looking at him so.

Jon faded away from the corner of his eye. He looked his way and saw his friend trying to leave the yard. He had forgotten that they came to the yard to relax a little but now it seemed like the entire court was watching them. "And where are you going?" Oberyn said his voice sharp as his spear.

Jon paused in his movement. He had almost reached the rack he took the sword from. Slowly, like he was expecting a trap, he turned back. "I'm leaving, your Highness."

"So soon?" he asked rhetorically.

He looked at the yard and all the people crowding it. Quentyn saw the question on his face. How many there believed the king's words? How many had doubts? "It seems that the yard is about to become quite busy. I will take my leave to avoid the confusion that is to come."

"But you would deprive us of showing your skill with a sword. That is something we all would like to see. Come now, your Highness. Continue your sparring." Quentyn could see how his smile was mocking but his eyes were watching Jon intensely. Most people only saw the smile and become incensed at it. They would gladly accept the challenge Oberyn was throwing at their teeth. He hoped that Jon wouldn't fall for the same kind of trap.

"Are you offering to spar against me, Prince Oberyn?" Jon asked him, his back still turned to him. He didn't sound angry, only controlled.

Oberyn's smile widened. "If you would like to be so, I will oblige you, Prince Daemon."

" _Don't do it, Jon,"_ Quentyn silently pleaded with him. He knew what would come next. In front of everyone, his uncle would humiliate his friend.

But instead he only said, "I must refuse your offer, your Highness."

The entire yard stared at him as if he had gone mad. Quentyn breathed quietly in relief. He had seen this before back at Riverrun when he refused Aegon. But his uncle hadn't witness it so he was clueless about it. "You would refuse me?" Oberyn asked.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"A bastard cannot harm royalty. You are a prince of Dorne and royalty in your own right." It was a perfectly good answer and he said it without being meek or condescending. He spoke as if he was speaking politely to someone above his station.

Quentyn was impressed by the way he answered the question. _"Did he learn that from living with Lady Stark?"_ he wondered. It seemed likely. He had seen how Lady Stark behaved around Jon at Riverrun. It might've been acceptable in the rest of Westeros but she would've been a scorned woman in Dorne for her treatment.

And Oberyn was about to show that behavior to Jon. "Do you think that I would care about whether you are a bastard or not?" he asked.

"I must assume so, your Highness," Jon replied, his back still turned.

"You assume?"

"Yes, I must assume." He turned back his head and looked at the Red Viper. "I must assume that you are responsible for your bastards' attitudes. Even though they are bastards, they were content with seeing me lower than themselves. Why else would they call me a little northern shit and a dog?" In the silence that lay heavy on the courtyard, he spoke again. "I must assume that you are responsible for their behavior. After all, my prince, we in the North have heard of your hatred for my lady aunt."

"Your aunt?" he repeated.

"Yes, my aunt. Lady Lyanna Stark." He left the yard amidst shocked silence with all eyes on his back.

Quentyn watched him go. He would've gone after him but he saw how his uncle stood. It was reminiscent of how a snake would coil up before striking. He went over to him as noise filled the courtyard again. "Happy now?" he asked in a whisper.

"Yes and no."

"What does that mean?"

"I thought he would've reacted like a typical northern bastard, angry about their position in life and wanting to prove themselves. He didn't react so."

Quentyn knew why it was so. Jon had a long time to learn how to swallow his pride and anger at whatever taunts and insults sent his way. He wouldn't have stayed in Riverrun for so long if he hadn't. Every time that a physical conflict emerged, he was not the one who threw the first punch. "What else?" he asked his uncle, seeing how he was still coiled.

"He has the gall to say that about my daughters, to my face."

It was something in the way he said those words, the injured pride of a parent, that made Quentyn say to him, "Someone had to say it."

His uncle turned his eyes onto him as the yard gradually filled with people who wished to train. "Watch what you say, Quentyn. I don't take kindly to insults."

His spine was steel. The words were coming out of his mouth before he could stop them. "I know you don't take kindly to insults. I was sent Yronwood because you didn't kindly to insults. I was sent away because of something you did and when I came back with a compliment about my foster family, you, Arianne, the elder Sand Snakes, you all scorn me. You would've killed Jon at Riverrun because you don't take kindly to insults.

"But in some case, insults are truths that you have no wish to hear. Well, hear this, Uncle. Prince Viserys and Jon have the right of it: your daughters are out of control. They think they are better than everyone else around them because their cousins are dragons. They're not. Remind them of that before they do something that could make Dorne or even Westeros fall into a bloody war." He didn't say these words with rancorous intent but with the truest intentions. Despite their attitude, he loved his cousins. They were family and he wanted to protect them, even if it was from themselves.

Oberyn didn't lash out as he had expected, as everyone who was watching expected the Red Viper to do. He breathed out slowly and unclenched his hands. "You are too much like your father, Quentyn," he said.

"I will take that as a compliment."

"It was meant as one." He placed a hand on his shoulder. "There is a balance between your father and I. He would name me the viper and him the grass. I see it as him being the voice of reason and I the voice of action. Together, we lead Dorne. Someday you will help your sister do the same."

He had doubts about that. Arianne was just like their uncle, hot-tempered and very willful. She only chose to listen to him when it suited her. "Perhaps you should tell that to her."

His uncle looked knowingly at him. "You think that since you are the second born, you must be the voice of action. Don't worry, Quentyn. Arianne is that voice. You must be the reason that supports and guides her."

Again, he didn't know about that. He just knew that Arianne would never listen to him. He left the yard to go after Jon, thinking that he could someone to talk to. He realized that neither of them had talked about the obvious fact of Jon, focusing on the others instead. He didn't go back to ask, his friend was more important.

The din of the yard faded away but the sound of armor walking stayed behind him. He looked back and saw Jaime Lannister following him. They didn't say anything to each other because there was nothing to say. Jon was easily seen going down the corridor. "Jon, where are you going?" Quentyn asked him as he caught up with the Northman.

"The godswood," he answered, not slowing down his pace. He didn't know where he was going but he wouldn't stop.

Ser Lannister went ahead of them. "Follow me, your Highness," he said. "I know where it is." They followed him out of the Red Keep.

The godswood was silent compared to the yard. The only sounds they heard were the animals scurrying through the trees and Blackwater Rush below. It smelled clean compared to the rest of the castle. As soon as they stepped through, Jon took the lead. He walked through the godswood as if he had been there countless times. He stopped before the heart tree, a great oak, and knelt down before.

Both the Dornishman and the Kingsguard stood there, unsure of what to do. This was nothing like the sept they were used too. There was no septon praying or statues of the Seven to pray to. There was only a tree and silence. But strangely enough, Quentyn felt more in touch with the gods here than in any sept he had been in.

The hours passed before Jon finally rose from his place. "What did you pray for?" Quentyn asked him.

"To go home," he said in reply.

"Your Highness," said Ser Jaime. They both looked at him and he fell silent. They didn't want to hear the king's words and the Kingsguard knew it.

Jon looked back at the heart tree, looking at the quiet face carved into the wood. "I don't know if the gods heard my prayer."

Quentyn was surprised by his words. He had been praying for hours and he said it wasn't enough? "Why do you say that?" he asked.

He pointed almost accusingly at the heart tree. "If Aegon the Conqueror truly meant to rule over the First Men, he would've planted a weirwood tree in this godswood, not make a great oak the heart tree."

It was a harsh thing to say. "Perhaps he couldn't safely find a seed to plant." Westeros after the Conquest was tense, to say the least.

"Or perhaps that was the story he told. There are always different versions of the same story."

"You'd think so?"

He looked at Quentyn. "Do you know the story of the King Who Knelt?"

"Of course I do." Everyone in Westeros knew of the last king Aegon the Conqueror defeated and without taking a single life. "King Torrhen Stark bent the knee at the Trident. King Aegon I accept his fealty and made him Warden of the North."

"That's the story they tell in the south. It lacks detail." He looked back at the tree again. "What they don't tell you, the North has remembered. Before he knelt, Torrhen looked back at the army he brought to the Trident. He saw all the faces of the men who came to fight for the North. Then, he looked back at Aegon, his sisters at his side, and said, 'May your house never know this shame and humiliation.' He took off his crown and bent the knee. Aegon knelt down and helped him back onto his feet, thanking him genuinely for saving the lives of his people."

The Martell prince had never heard those details before. It added a layer to the story and gave it much more meaning. Whenever southerners heard the title the King Who Knelt, they think of Torrhen Stark as a coward who didn't even fight against the Targaryens. He had always thought of Aegon the Conqueror as a man who stood apart from others, yet the story he heard made the man sound more human. "This story should be heard by all," he declared. "Not just by the Northmen."

Jon smiled, just a little bit. "Feel free to spread it around." They left the godswood, the problems surrounding them seeming less troublesome in that moment. Even though they would remain a bother, both of them took that moment to enjoy their friendship.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

Some people were saying that the fact the court believing what the king and the queen were was stupid beyond belief. I agree with that. I would like to agree that they hadn't read the viewpoint from someone outside the royal family on the matter. Hence Quentyn's chapter and seeing the court being divided.

I'm basing Rhoynar spear fighting on the fight between Oberyn and the Mountain. Some people could say that it's a lot of stick spinning nonsense. I see more as distract and confuse tactic. If you watch the spear twirling around and spinning, you lose focus and forget where the pointy end is. Next thing you know, the pointy end sticking in you.

That story at the end is what I would like to think the exchange between Aegon and Torrhen would go. Torrhen would weep because he knows what he has to do but it will only earn him scorn and contempt from others. Aegon would understand the tears and help him back to his feet, showing that generous side he's supposed to have. If they ever do those _Game of Thrones_ prequels they're talking about, one of them should be on the War of Conquest. I want to see how all this plays out.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	31. Chapter 31

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 31: Daenerys

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: King's Landing)

Daenerys knew what the court thought of her. They thought her odd, if they were feeling polite, and mad, when they weren't. The truth of it was that she didn't know if she was mad or not. She had read that her ancestors had dreams that seemed to prophetic but she didn't dream such things. What she had instead, she guessed it could be called a sort of intuition. She could feel things about people, knowing something about themselves that they didn't want known. She didn't show this skill openly but sometimes it just…slipped out.

And there was the fact that she could see people who weren't really there. There were many ghosts that lived in the Red Keep, many of whom were her own family. But the one that was the most curious was the one she loved above all else. It was a ghost of someone not a part of her family, at least not initially. Dany didn't know how to address her until she saw the wolves gathered around the hem of her dress, trailing after her when she left. From then on, she called her the wolf lady.

The wolf lady was one of the ghosts that chose to spoke rarely. Dany saw her more often watching silently. She was most often found wherever Rhaegar and Elia were, watching them. Dany could never see her eyes when she was near her brother and his wife, not without making it obvious. She feared to ask why the wolf lady did that because she feared the ghost would stop talking to her.

When she rode back to the Red Keep from Riverrun, knowing that Lord Stark's bastard son was in fact her nephew, she had not seen the wolf lady. No matter where she looked, there was no sign of the ghost or the wolves that were always close. It was like she had just vanished. Why would she vanish like that? _"Is it because she really is Lyanna Stark?"_ Dany wondered to herself as she walked down the corridor. The thought did have its consideration but it made little sense. Lyanna Stark's ashes were taken back to Winterfell by her brother. There was nothing that could possibly tie her to the Red Keep.

" _Or maybe there is,"_ she realized. _"Maybe it is love that has kept her in the Red Keep?"_ If what Rhaegar and Elia said was true, they had both loved Lyanna and she loved them back. Maybe she was still here because her love for them was that strong. But if it was so, why would she vanish from sight once Daemon was here?

Still, she had spent no time with Daemon. It was time she corrected that. That was why she was heading towards Daemon's rooms. She had heard that Prince Quentyn was able to get her nephew out of his rooms while others had failed to even get him to consider the idea. Perhaps now that he had gone out, he could be persuaded to do it again or talk to people.

That had been the place as she approached the door leading into his chambers. But as she reached out for the handle, she heard voices on the other side. It made her pause. _"That's strange,"_ she thought to herself. Daemon was supposed to be alone in his chambers. Ser Barristan stood guard outside the door so she looked to him for answers. "Ser, who is inside with Daemon?"

"Mya Stone, princess," he answered her. "She went in not ten minutes ago with his lunch."

"And she hasn't left yet?"

He shook his head. "No, princess," he said.

Ser Jaime smirked. "Well," he said behind her. "I wonder what the prince is doing to her. Perhaps we should wait and find out?"

"Ser Jaime," Ser Barristan said in reprimand, "Do not speak of such things in front of the princess."

She didn't like how they talked about her like she wasn't there. "There is a simple way to find out," she declared, opening the door and walking through. She found Daemon and Mya sitting at the table, the food lying between them uneaten. They were talking to each other, speaking like they were friends. Daemon was even smiling somewhat.

They stopped when they saw her come through the door. "Your Highness," Mya said, coming to her feet. Daemon did the same and bowed his head too. But he did not say anything.

"Hello Mya, Daemon," she told the both of them. "I did not expect you here, Mya."

"I came to bring lunch, princess."

"And you stayed."

She didn't say anything but Daemon did. "I wanted to talk to someone," he said shortly. It could almost be considered rude.

Mya looked at him for a moment and then at her. "Princess Daenerys, may we speak for a moment?"

This was curious. But she nodded. Rhaenys's handmaiden walked away from the table to the door. Dany leaned in close when she reached her. "What do you need, Mya?" she asked.

"Have you come to try and get him out of these rooms, your Highness?" Mya asked back.

"Well, yes."

"Don't call him Daemon. If you do that, he will not leave the room."

But that was his actual name. Did she think that he wanted to be called the name Lord Stark gave him? Dany would've protested but she looked at Daemon. He was watching her, judging her. _"He thinks I'm like the others."_ She was not. She wanted to know who he was. "Very well," she told Mya.

They walked back to him. "Is everything well?" he asked, looking more at Mya than her.

"Yes."

Dany sat down beside her and looked at him. "Hello, Jon," she said, reminding herself to call him that. She still thought of him as Daemon. "How are you?"

He regarded with that same judging look from before. "I am well, your Highness."

"That's good." She didn't know why but the air suddenly felt awkward around them. She guess that it was because she had come into the room with a purpose and now she was trying to achieve a different purpose. It could make anyone awkward.

"Princess Daenerys, if I may be blunt?" he asked her, wanting her permission for something.

She gestured him to continue. "Go ahead."

"What in seven hells are you doing in here?"

She was taken aback by the bluntness of the question, even though she welcomed it. She was used to people taking a subtle or long approach to asking her a question, trying to get through her guard and get her unawares. His straightforward asking caught her more easily than the other questions she had answered or evaded in the Red Keep. It was new and a breath of fresh air to her.

But it was also a question she did not answer right away. The simple reason was that she didn't know how to answer it. She had come to the room to pull him out of it, to take him around the Red Keep, make him more of the family. But that was looking more and more like a very bad idea. If she couldn't do that, then what she was doing here? She realized she would have to shrink her idea of what to do. "I came to talk to you, Jon," she finally told him.

"Why?" he asked. He couldn't have sounded more suspicious if he tried.

She was more ready to answer that question. "We barely spoke at Riverrun. Now that we are here together in the Red Keep, we should know each other." It was a different answer from what she was originally going to say. It seemed like Mya had the right idea to talk to him like he wasn't a part of the family.

"Very well," he finally said. "What do you wish to speak about?"

Now that was a question she had to trend carefully about. She could not ask him how he found the Red Keep because it would show her true intention. She could not ask him about Winterfell for it would be too late. No, her questions were suddenly quite short. She couldn't look to Mya. He would see it and know that what came next out of her mouth would be false. Perhaps if she asked about his family in Winterfell, that would be better.

She opened her mouth and the door smashed open. They all turn to see who it was. "Shagga?" said Daemon in surprise, coming to his feet.

The Vale clansman stomped through the door, ignoring the Kingsguard outside. Dany looked quickly at them. They didn't look injured. Shagga must've just pushed through them. "You," he said, pointing at Daemon. "Shagga was told you were a bloodied warrior. Was Shagga told falsely?"

He was rude and uncaring that ladies were in his presence. But Daemon did not tell him to leave. He stood against the clansman. "You were not told falsely. I am a bloodied warrior."

"If you are a bloodied warrior, why are you not with the boys given to you? Why are you not training them to be back brothers like you promise them?"

His eyes widened. "Tommen and Ned are here in the Red Keep?"

Dany didn't think she would ever get over the fact that a boy like Tommen would ever consider a boy from the Mountains of the Moon to be a friend. The number of times he had been to the Red Keep she had found him to be a sweet boy. That seemed to be changing now if he was with a clan child. _"He won't be that sweet boy anymore."_

Shagga nodded. "Aye, they are here. They have been waiting for you. If you do not teach them, than Shagga son of Dolf will consider you bloodied no more."

Dany didn't know what that was supposed to mean and a quick look at Mya showed that she didn't know what it meant. She guessed it was supposed to be an insult but it didn't sound like much of an insult to her. But she saw Daemon's back go stiff. "You are right, Chief Shagga. I was wrong. Where are they waiting?"

"The field of training," he answered.

Her nephew nodded in thanks. "I will attend to them." Without another word, he walked out the chamber door and out of sight. Shagga followed him out and Ser Barristan followed the both of them.

Dany wasted no time standing up. "Ser Jaime," she called out to the knight. "We will follow them."

"We?" asked Mya, sounding only a little surprised.

"Yes." She walked out of the room and after them. She didn't look back but she knew that Mya would be following her.

They followed Daemon at a pace that kept them away from him so he wouldn't notice. At a few points, he and Shagga vanished from the sight but they quickly came back into sight. They followed the wide berth given to Daemon and Shagga Dany saw how people watched in fascination the new prince and the savage clansman walked together with ease. They had never seen such a thing before and she knew that there would be rumors plenty following this.

She saw Rhaenys walk from stairs nearby. "Dany?" she called out questioningly, "Mya?"

She didn't say anything as she walked past her niece. "You'd best follow, your Highness," she heard Mya said from behind.

"What's happening?"

"There's really no time to explain."

Dany entered the training yard from above. It was the better place to watch. She looked down and saw Ned and Tommen already in front of Jon, clamoring for his attention. He pushed them back so they wouldn't crowd him. He did not raise his voice as he spoke so she did not know what it was he said. They quickly went to the weapon racks, drawing swords. Daemon went to a different rack and took a single sword, not two.

She was a little disappointed by the sight of the single sword. It seemed in spite of the name his brother gave him Daemon would not wield two swords unless the situation demanded it. But she wouldn't chastise him for it. It would be unseemly and it wasn't her place to do so. She watched them go back to their place in the yard, ignoring all those who would look at them. Rhaenys and Mya stood by her. One look told her that her niece was just as interested in what happened next, perhaps even more so.

Daemon stood against the two boys, his sword held in a defensive position. Tommen and Ned attacked him, their swords swinging down from above. He blocked them both with ease. His sword pushed through them and making them stumbled back. He lowered his sword back to the starting position.

"What's he doing?" Dany asked. "Should he attack them?" She wasn't so naïve as to think that he would fight like he was in war. But she did think that he would attack them so they could learn how to wield their swords in proper defense. But he stayed still.

The two boys attacked again, swing the same strike. He blocked and pushed them back, falling into the first position. This repeated three more times before Tommen whispered in Ned's ear. They stepped away from each other and came at Daemon from different sides, still swinging from above.

Daemon blocked them again. He pushed them away and said, "Is that it?" They looked more determined and swung again.

"What is he doing?" Rhaenys asked.

Dany couldn't tell her. What she was watching was nothing like any training she had seen before. When she had passed the yard before and watched, the sparring was always evenly matched. It would go back and forth, perhaps with one side having a small advantage over the other. But what was happening down below was clearly one-sided. Daemon made no effort to attack them but it was clear that he was holding back greatly.

Still, she had no idea what was going on. "Ser Jaime, can you tell us?" she asked him.

"I would say that it's a clear case of him tormenting the boys, if he was trying to hit them," Ser Jaime told her. "But it's not that so I can't say it is. All I can say is that he is training them but it's not like any kind of training I've seen."

"Hmm," Mya said, frowning down at the yard.

The three of them looked at her. "What do you mean, Mya?" Rhaenys asked her.

"Shagga did say that he was training them to be back brothers. Maybe this is something that has to do with that?"

It sounded plausible to Dany. She looked back at Ser Jaime but he was already looking intently at the yard, Daemon and the boys he was teaching. His emerald eyes were focused hard and they watched every small detail. "Yes, yes, I see it," he said, mostly to himself.

"See what, Ser Jaime?" asked Rhaenys.

He pulled his eyes away and looked at them again. "He's showing them how to fight in unison with the other."

"In unison?" said Mya questioningly.

Dany knew that if it was the bastard alone who asked him, Ser Jaime would not give her an answer. It wasn't because of her status, but rather because he would think that because she was a woman and a maid, she had no business asking such questions. And it wasn't because he thought her beneath such things either. He would refuse to answer because he felt that she should be kept away from such things, to be protected a little longer. Despite what people might think of him, and in spite of what he might say Ser Jaime did his best to be a true knight.

But she wasn't alone on the rampart. "What do you mean, Ser Jaime?" Dany asked him. If she asked him, he couldn't stay silent.

"Watch how he moves his sword," he told the three of them. "He coaxes the boys to find the supposed weak spots."

"Supposed?" said Rhaenys.

"Spots?" asked Mya.

"Yes. He feigns weak spots for them to attack, showing them how to block in the same moment. Since there are more than one spot, he wants them to find them and utilize them. Throughout all of this, he is having them fight together so they know how to work with each other in a real fight."

"The definition of a back brother, or so I've been told," Rhaegar said as he came up from behind them. Aegon walked beside him.

They were all surprised by their appearance. The sounds of the yard muffled their footsteps and the armor of Ser Gerold and Ser Arthur. "Father," Rhaenys said to him.

He greeted her with a smile. "Hello, Rhaenys, Dany, Ser Jaime," he greeted them all, save for Mya.

Dany looked past him, trying to see if the wolf lady was near. But there was no sight of her. She brought her attention back to her brother. "Have you come from the Small Council, brother?" she asked.

A grimace passed through his face, the same as Ser Gerold. "I have."

She noticed the grimace and was concerned. "Is everything alright?"

"It's nothing that you need to be concerned about, Dany."

Aegon looked like he disagreed. "They should know, Father. It's not something that we'll be able to keep quiet for long."

"There is nothing to keep quiet, Aegon."

"That is what's worrying me." Rhaegar smiled at him proudly, as if he had applied a lesson that he had learned in his studies.

Rhaenys took her gaze off the yard and looked at the king. "Father, has something happened?" she asked with concern in her voice.

He did not raise his voice when he answered her. "We have had no kind of word from the North."

"…Isn't that good?"

Aegon frowned harder. "We should've had something from him by now, a raven or a letter demanding his son back. But nothing, we've gotten absolutely nothing from him." He looked at his father. "We still could've sent a raven ourselves, explaining the situation."

Rhaegar shook his head. "No, I will not do that. I lost Viserys to Ned Stark the last time I wrote a letter to him. The Seven Kingdoms will go to war most assuredly if I wrote him another one."

Dany thought that was a little over-exaggerated. She knew the story about her brother's letter to Lord Stark (she didn't think there was a person of the court who _hadn't_ heard that story). But that had been at the beginning of his reign. It was fourteen years since then. Surely he would be more skilled with the quill.

"Is there any word from the Tullys?" asked Rhaenys.

He shook his head. "They have not heard anything from Lady Stark."

"I don't think Lady Stark would tell them anything," Aegon said, looking down at Daemon training the boys. "She's a Stark now, not a Tully."

His sister looked at him. "You forget the Tully words, brother. Family, Duty, Honor," she recited with ease. "If the North was preparing something, she would surely send a raven to her family in Riverrun, to warn them about what was to come."

"What about the Vale?" Dany asked, bringing the eyes onto her. They must've thought that the Vale of Arryn would take action. Ned Stark had fostered at the Eyrie under Jon Arryn. "Are they preparing for action?"

Aegon shook his head. "Lord Arryn had spent the last hour promising us that he would not have the Vale take action against the crown if war broke out. In truth, I think he was more concerned about his heir being out of sight than rising in rebellion again."

That rang true to her. Ever since Lysa Tully committed suicide after repeated stillbirths (and the death of her rumored lover, Petyr Baelish, for attempting to defraud the Vale), Lord Arryn had taken Harry Hardying into the Eyrie and barely allowed him to leave. Supposedly, their coming to Riverrun was the first time the Arryn heir had left the Vale. Now, he was staying at Riverrun with other assorted young nobles, enjoying after-tournament pleasures hosted by Edmure Tully.

She saw how her brother fell silent as he looked down at Daemon, training Tommen and Ned. She saw the love in his eyes. He looked down at his second son with as much love as he had for his first. Dany didn't see anything wrong with that. But what she did find wrong was the fact that he was still up here and not down there.

She leaned in close to her brother and said, "Have you talked to him?"

He didn't look at her even though he knew who she was talking about. "No."

She wanted to tell him that he should but it would've been wrong for her to say. "Why?" she asked instead.

He looked down at Daemon with mournful eyes. "He still thinks he is a prisoner here."

"Convince him that he's not then." It was just as simple as that. "You were never hesitant about the prophecy."

He turned his gaze on her and his eyes were purple fire. But the fire extinguished itself fast. He breathed in and out before he said, "Don't ever bring that up again, Dany. Please. That has been one of my greatest mistakes."

She saw the pain on his face. She knew that if he could go back in time, he would prevent himself from being engulfed in the prophecy. His obsession with it had been part of why he took Lady Lyanna away. He blamed himself for letting her die and supposedly their child with her. Since the end of the war, not a single word of the prophecy was mentioned near the king. That was made plain after he drove out the Red Priestess from King's Landing after she came with words full of the prophecy.

But there was one thing about it all different now. The child that was supposed to be dead was now down below, very much alive. He was her nephew and he had to be treated like he was family. "Go talk to him, Rhaegar," she urged her eldest brother. "Go be the father to him you are to Aegon and Rhaenys."

"Someone call my name?" Aegon asked, looking down at the both of them.

Rhaegar looked at his son. "No, Aegon, we did not." He stepped away from the railing. "If you all will excuse me," he said.

"Your Grace?" asked Ser Gerold, moving to follow him.

He shook his head. "No, Ser Gerold. Stay here. This is something that I need to do." He walked away, heading for the nearby wooden stairs.

His children watched him go. "What's he doing?" Aegon asked.

"Talking to his son," Dany said, watching her brother going down the stairs. People parted before him as he reached the ground and strode towards the open yard.

Daemon paused in his actions, blocking a strike from the boys. He disengaged and faced Rhaegar, his grey eyes cool and guarded. It was a thing to see them change so fast from being warm and encouraging. He did not walk away from his father. She could not hear what he said, but Dany knew Daemon's words were short.

She felt Aegon come beside her. "You think it's going well?" he asked.

"He's not leaving," she replied, "I would think that's a good sign."

"I guess." He paused and then looked at her. "Did you talk to him much before he came out here, Dany?"

"I didn't but Mya did."

"What?" said both her niece and nephew, swinging their heads to look at Mya.

Dany looked at her too, wondering what she would say. Mya did not panic at their looks. "We talked, that is all," she told the both of them.

"Why would he talk to you?" Rhaenys asked her.

"He likes to believe that our situations are similar. I've told him that I did not want to be here originally either."

Dany remembered what Mya was like when she was first brought to the Red Keep to be Rhaenys's handmaiden. She had not said nor did anything that would've showed how much she hated being there. It was in how she looked when she thought no one was looking. She had looked angry, and sad. But those days had long since passed. She had grown used to living in King's Landing.

Aegon looked suspiciously at her. "Is there another reason, Mya?" he asked. It was a question he shouldn't have asked. It sounded too possessive to the casual ear.

"No,' she said simply, turning her attention back to the yard. Dany followed her gaze and saw her brother and Daemon crossing swords. Panic filled her for a moment as dread things came to her mind. But as she watched them, she saw how they weren't actually fighting. They were sparring.

She didn't know how it started and she cursed herself from taking her gaze off of them. Ned and Tommen were standing apart from them and watched with awed looks, the same as the rest of the yard. Once again, everyone watched as Daemon wielded a sword. She watched fascinated by how the two traded sword strikes. They had the same determined look on their faces, the look that said they needed to win this fight. _"How could anyone doubt they are father and son?"_ she wondered. It seemed so obvious.

The spar continued and no one stopped it. She couldn't tell who would win because they looked so evenly matched. She knew that Daemon had the skill but Rhaegar had the experience. The two canceled each other. She had heard about the spar Daemon had against Ser Arthur. She knew the reason why her nephew lost that spar was because Arthur had both the skill and the experience.

"Who do you think will win?" she heard Aegon ask.

Rhaenys replied, "We'll have to see."

He scoffed. "You say that, but you want it to be Jo…be Daemon." She didn't reply to that.

But neither the father nor the son won. As their swords clashed for the last time, they stepped away from each other. They lowered their swords. The crowd was confused and whispering sprang up all around the yard. Dany could see that Rhaegar said something to Daemon but she couldn't tell what the words were.

Whatever they were, they cause Daemon to have a small look of pride. He looked proud for whatever his father said to him. He didn't say anything in return. Instead he left the yard with Ned and Tommen behind him. But Dany saw the small smile on his lips as he walked away. And she knew that Daemon was becoming closer to them.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

Okay, this chapter went a different route than I had initially expected. It was meant more for Daenerys talking to Jon and getting to know him. The Shagga thing came when I realized that I hadn't really shown Jon being a teacher to Tommen and Ned. Once it happened, I just went with it.

And now you know the Northern reaction: there isn't one. That just makes the right people in King's Landing nervous. Rhaegar's nervousness about writing to Lord Stark is not unfounded. As he said, the last time he wrote to Winterfell, he had been confident that it would be the way to peace. Instead, he got a threatened rebellion and giving up his brother. There's also the fact that no one in the south has actually seen the Northmen fight in either Robert's Rebellion or the Greyjoy Rebellion. He has no idea what they could be possible of and that's make him cautious.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	32. Chapter 32

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 32: Jon

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: King's Landing)

Jon awoke one morning and found that he was getting used to being in King's Landing. He found it upsetting. He didn't want to be here but he found himself thinking less of Winterfell and the North as time went on. It was like he was beginning to accept that he would never see it again.

That was inexcusable to him. He didn't belong in the capital. He wasn't a Targaryen. His name wasn't Daemon. It was Jon. His father was Lord Eddard Stark. But it seemed like everyone he met believed otherwise. He lay in the bed and looked out the door to his parlor. The light from the sun's rays were already beginning to fill the room. In a few minutes the heat would fill the chambers and he would have to get out of the bed, lest he died from the heat.

He swung out of the bed. _"If there was ever a time to miss waking up in my old chambers, it would be now,"_ he thought to himself. Waking up in Winterfell, even with the water from the hot springs piped through the walls, always came with a snap of cold air. As soon as he put his feet on the ground, he would feel a small chill. But for a few moments, especially if he woke earlier than usual, he could lie in the bed and enjoy the mix of warmth and chill. Here, he had to get out of the bed before the heat pinned him to it.

He dressed for the day. His clothes had picked out for him as they had the week before. He glared down at the clothes, picking ones that the least amount of black or red. If there was even a hint of a dragon design on one of them, it would be tossed aside. The side effect of this method was him ending up with clashing colors on the wrong clothing article, something he was sure made other people laugh when he wasn't in the room. He didn't care. He just wanted to show everyone that he wasn't what they thought he was.

Once he was dressed, he stepped out into the parlor. Mya was already there, putting his tray down on the table. "Good morning, Mya," he greeted her.

"Good morning, Jon," she replied. "If you have no further need of me…"

She said every time but they both knew it was a formality. "Please, sit and eat with me." They sat down together and began to talk. It was something that happened the first time she brought him breakfast. He had asked to sit and talk with him. He felt like they were both out of place here in the Red Keep. She indulged him and they began to talk. They've kept that talk going every morning since.

"What is happening out there?" he asked her.

"The same as always," she replied, "The knights in the yard train and dream of glory. The ladies sew and dream of love. And the court plays their game."

He didn't know what she had meant when she had first told him about the court. He couldn't believe that such a thing existed. He would've called her a liar if not for the fact that she had been here a lot longer than he had. All he could ask was what she had meant by that. He was by no means a player but he kept a wary eye out.

"Do people still ask after me for this game of theirs?"

She nodded as she broke off a piece of bread. "Of course they do. They wouldn't dream of letting such a vulnerable piece go to waste."

He was disgusted by it. "They can go fuck themselves."

She smiled just enough to be seen. "You say that every time."

"I mean it every time."

"I know."

He could not understand why people would do something like this. She had told him that there were people who wanted to supplant Prince Aegon with him as heir to the Iron Throne. Even if he was what they say (which he wasn't) he would not have condone something like that. He might have been a bastard but he had been taught that family was important. Perhaps Lady Stark would find it wrong and offensive but he obeyed House Tully's words as much as he listened to House Stark's. It was why when he dared to come out of the chambers and people came up, wanting to talk to them, he would ignore them. It had worked out so far.

Mya ate the bread and fingered a grape. The sun shined on its green skin, making it and her skin almost glow. "So, what is it you plan to do today?" she asked, popping the grape into her mouth.

"I must train Ned and Tommen." Ever since Shagga had barged into the room and reminded him of his duty, he did it faithfully.

"Is Tommen coming along well?"

He nodded. "Yes, he is. He's becoming less timid and doesn't quiver as much when Ned shouts at him." That happened a lot during training. At first Tommen would apologize and wipe away the tears in his eyes. But now, it was happening less and less.

"That's good. Tommen's a sweet boy." She snorted and said, "Which is remarkable, considering his mother."

"Who did Lady Cersei marry?" He had not seen her husband at Riverrun nor here in the Red Keep.

"I've heard it was a Lannister of Lannisport."

He paused in picking up a piece of bread. "That does not seem very advantageous." A daughter of a Lord Paramount should have had a better marriage than that.

"From what Lady Rhaenys told me, it was Cersei who married the man, without any permission or blessings from her lord father. She was told that Lord Tywin was so angered by what she had done, he did not attend the wedding nor did he attend the birth of their children. There are doubts because of his actions."

Jon didn't know much about Tywin Lannister. What little he did know came from his father. Lord Stark did not have a high opinion of Lord Tywin. He didn't have much of an opinion about the rest of House Lannister. Still, he wondered what could have happened because of Tywin's anger. "Doubts?" he asked.

"My lady has heard that because of she had done, even though she still lives in Casterly Rock, her children are not in line to succeed."

He saw something wrong with that right away. "But Lord Tywin's heir is Lord Tyrion, his son," he protested. Having known Lord Tyrion for a time at Riverrun, he found the Imp to be a decent man and thought well of him.

But Mya did not share the same thought. "Jon, it is common knowledge in the capital that Lord Tywin's desired heir is Ser Jaime, even though the king has told him that his son is and will stay a part of the Kingsguard. There has been no official declaration from Lord Tywin as to who he's heir, whether it be Lord Tyrion or Tommen Lannister."

He did find it odd. "Does Tommen's father try to push for him to become Lord Tywin's heir?"

"I don't know. Lady Cersei's husband was lost during the Greyjoy Rebellion. He died when Lannisport was sacked and the fleet burned."

He paused in picking up a piece of meat with his fork. "Tommen does not have his father anymore?"

"No."

He felt sorry for the boy. It wasn't the same but he knew what Tommen had gone through a little. He had his father but he didn't know who his mother was. Another difference was that Tommen had probably known his father. He didn't know who his mother was.

The door opened and the queen strode in. Both Jon and Mya came to their feet. "Your Grace," they said.

"Daemon, you do not need to address me like that," Queen Elia told him. There was something in her voice, something that he had heard whenever Lady Stark spoke proudly of her children. It was motherly affection. It was probably meant to warm him. It just made him feel uneasy. This whole thing made him uneasy.

He had already shut the queen off once and he wasn't going to do it again. He kept silent as he stared at the point past her. "Your Grace, is there something I can do for you?" Mya asked, breaking the silence filling the room.

She shook her head. "No, Mya, there is nothing that I require of you. I came to talk to Daemon."

" _Old gods help me,"_ he thought to himself at those words. Whatever was going to come next wouldn't be good.

She looked at him, her eyes taking note of his clothes. They were disappointed to see that he wore neither black nor red and there was no hint of a dragon. "We will have a feast tonight to celebrate the winners of the tourney at Riverrun," she told him. "It is expected for all the members of the royal family to be there."

As much as he would like to be confused, these past few weeks had made their intent clear. But he would not tell her that he would attend. He was not a Targaryen. So he kept silent and continued to stare at that spot. He waited for her to leave, hoping that it would make her leave.

But she didn't. "Daemon, you will be expected to be there as well. Your clothes will be sent to you before the feast. Please, wear them when you come." With that said, she turned around and left.

He waited until the door was close before he looked at Mya. "Did you know about this?" he asked her. He would like to think that the clothes he would get would not match him. But that was wishful thinking. The castle tailor had already measured him.

The servant girl shook her head. "I heard talks of a feast but never from someone who could actually planned it," she told him.

That meant they talked about it when she wasn't in the room. _"Do they think I've made her my spy?"_ he asked himself. It was ridiculous. They just talked to each other, nothing more. He looked over at the door. "What do you think are my chances of not showing?"

"The queen told you personally. That means you'll have to attend. If you try to stay in these rooms, I'm sure the king will have one of the Kingsguard fetch you."

The way she said that, it didn't sound good. "By fetch, you mean…?"

"They would take you out of this room and force you to attend the feast."

She spoke as if she had seen it happened before. A scene came to his mind, of two Kingsguard coming through the door, taking him roughly, and dragging him out. "Have they actually done that?"

She nodded grimly. "As far I've seen. But it was only once and Prince Aegon was only eight when they did it. He looked defeated being carried by Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell into the feasting hall."

That was certainly an odd thing to hear. "Why would the prince try to avoid a feast?" he asked.

"I don't know, but I would guess it had something to do with the fact that the Tyrells were there."

That was odd. But when he thought about it, the prince avoided the Tyrells as best he could. No, that wasn't right. He avoided Margaery Tyrell as best he could. Jon found it odd. They were betrothed, were they not? "Does he have a problem with that house?" he asked Mya.

Her face became a little expressionless. "It's not that he has a problem with House Tyrell," she said. "He just has a problem with Lady Margaery."

"Why? They're betrothed."

"Yes, from birth."

"Then why would he want to be away from her? Surely they would have grown up together, known each other."

She shook her head. "They didn't grow up together. Lady Margaery was kept in Highgarden in her youth instead of King's Landing. When she came, a good number of Tyrells had come with her, including her brother, Ser Loras."

Jon didn't stop the sneer coming onto his face at the mention of the Knight of Flowers. Sansa had been half in love with him just by looking at him. But he had found him to be condescending and puffed up about his own abilities. Everyone thought him to be the best sword after Prince Aegon, yet a bastard from the North made short work of him. Jon had found him prone to using fancy moves that was more likely to impress and dazzle a crowd. He had cut through it all like a knife through butter. If the joust had gone as planned, he was sure Robb would've bested the man too.

Mya did see the sneer but she didn't say anything about it. She kept her opinions to herself. "The crown prince has felt that by marrying Lady Margaery, he would be drowning in roses."

That was a turn of phrase he hadn't expected. It also left him with an image that tempted him to snigger. "I don't think one could drown in roses," he said instead.

"You haven't seen the amount of Tyrells that came to King's Landing with her. Most of them are still around."

Since he tried not to leave his rooms, he couldn't argue that. "Still, once they marry, the Tyrells would leave, would they not? Should he not look forward to the marriage just for that?"

"Perhaps, if the prince actually loved her," she remarked. "He has told me many times of how he wants to marry me." She wasn't proud of the fact or embarrassed by it. She said it as it was.

But Jon was surprised by it all the same. The son of King Rhaegar wanted to marry the bastard daughter of Robert Baratheon? It seemed like an ironic twist to fate. It made him to laugh at the irony. But one look at her and the laughter died in his throat. Mya wasn't like Sansa. She wasn't in love with the prince. Actually, he thought that she looked uncomfortable with the idea. Most people wouldn't have been able to see past the expressionless mask her face was. But he knew that face and knew how to look past it. She didn't like the fact that the prince wanted to marry her. He didn't say anything about it.

* * *

He tried to keep the feast out of his mind for the rest of the day. He kept himself busy by teaching Ned and Tommen, looking over the weapons for the yard and cleaning them if they needed to be clean. People protested his actions, saying that a prince shouldn't have to do such things. It just made him focus harder on his clean.

"This is your sword, boy," he heard Ser Rodrik's words repeat themselves in his head. "You will treat it with the respect it deserves. If you don't, you don't deserve it." Both Robb and he had always taken that to mean they had to care for the swords personally. They had spent as much time swinging the swords as they had cleaning them.

As the sun began to set and the day slowly turned to night, he found himself in the godswood. He knelt before the heart tree and prayed to the old gods. He prayed for them to give him a way out of this Red Keep, to go back home. _"Please,"_ he said silently. _"Set me free from this place. I'm beginning to feel like I will never leave this place. This is not my home."_

The old gods were silent. They always were. Father always said their answer would be in the silence. But Jon was beginning to wish that they would send him some kind of visible answer. By the time he stopped praying, it was night. "Your Highness!" called out a voice, followed by the sound of armor clinking as it moved.

He turned from the heart tree and walked back down the path. He ran into two of the Kingsguard along the way. "Ser Whent, Ser Martell," he greeted the two politely.

"Where have you been?" asked the Dornishman.

"Here, in the godswood. I've been praying. Is something the matter?"

"The feast has started."

He had hoped they forgotten about him when it came to the feast. But it appeared that he had no luck. "I see. Then I shall go to my chambers."

"So you can hide away from the others?" said Ser Oswell, chuckling like it was a joke. "No, my prince, we can't allow you to do that. You will have to come as you are."

He looked down at his clothes. "But, I am not wearing suitable clothing for a feast." He wasn't planning on hiding in his chambers. If they caught him, he was going to have to attend. But that didn't mean he would have to attend like this. It would make him stand out even more.

"He's right, Oswell," Ser Lewyn said to his brother knight. "A prince of the blood cannot come to a feast looking as if he came from working in the fields. What kind of example would that set?"

"If we take him back to his chambers, we will need a battering ram to get him out of there," he retorted.

"Then we shall stand inside the chambers and wait for him in there."

That was what they did. They waited in his parlor while he changed into something more suitable. When he was dressed and came back out to meet them, he saw how they looked at his clothes. It was entire black assemble with no hint of red or dragon anywhere in sight. They insisted that he changed again, claiming that he looked more like a Night's Watchman than a Targaryen. That sounded just fine to him and he refused to move on it. Finally they gave up on it. Ser Oswell muttered something that sounded like "Stubborn Starks," but with fondness, oddly.

They escorted him down to the queen's ballroom. He had wanted to enter quietly, find a seat near the door, and keep his head down to avoid being seen inside. But the Kingsguard prevented him from doing so. They kept him from entering the hall. He heard the banging of a staff against the ground and the herald proclaimed, "Prince Daemon Targaryen!"

The doors opened and Jon found the entirety of the hall staring at him. So many curious eyes were focused on him. He felt his throat go dry and his nerves fluttered. He didn't belong here. There was a firm glove against his back. One of the Kingsguard gave him a small push, forcing him into the hall.

As soon as he stepped inside, he had to keep walking. He saw an empty chair at the high table, just one. It was between Lady Margaery and Prince Aegon. It was for him, gods help him. He couldn't hide. He walked down the hall and saw Sam sitting at a table. Dolorous Edd was at another. Prince Quentyn was at a third, closer to the high table. His friends were here, but he could not sit by them.

He approached the high table and sat down. He didn't say anything to anyone there. But that didn't mean they wouldn't talk to him. "Prince Daemon," Lady Margaery greeted him with a dazzling smile. Ser Loras sat on her other side, glaring moodily at him.

The urge to correct her swelled up in his throat. His name was Jon, not Daemon. But in doing so would've caused a scene. He didn't want to draw more attention to him. "My lady," he said instead.

"We did not think that you would attend. Everyone was wondering where you were."

He doubted that. He could see the way people looked at him. They were all trying to see if he could be of any importance to them. "I was busy, my lady."

"Oh yes, you've been training those two boys to become brothers-in-arms." She frowned prettily. "But I had thought you had trained them this morning, my prince. Where did you go from there?"

"Probably to find something else that got his attention," her brother said. "Gods know there was enough of that at Riverrun." He gave Jon a sneer without even moving his lips.

Anger burned through him at that look. Was he implying that he went to find a prostitute? He would never have done that. _"Bran would be disappointed in him,"_ he thought to himself. And so was he. This man was a knight. He was supposed to be chivalrous, able to admit that he had a lost a spar and not act like a child who lost his toy.

"Come now, Ser Loras," Aegon said from his other side. "You've seen my brother at Riverrun. We all did. I don't think that I have ever met such a virtuous man outside of the Faith."

While he was glad for the defense, Jon felt uncomfortable to hear the prince say the word brother. He glance quickly at him and didn't see any mocking or deceit on his face. He looked as if he meant the words he said. But that face was also waiting for him to answer, so were the others. "I was in the godswood," he finally said.

"Doing what?" asked Lady Tyrell.

Rhaenys gave her a long look from where she sat beside Aegon. "One would assume that he was praying." She looked his way, her face softening. She was beautiful when her face did that. "What did you pray for?"

He reached for a piece of pork. "That is between me and the gods," he told her. She didn't ask him anything else. He saw the sad look in her eyes and instantly knew that she knew the truth of the matter. She knew that he had been praying to go home.

"My, you are quite faithful, my prince," Lady Margaery remarked. "Perhaps people should call you the Faithful Dragon." Her brother snorted in derision. Jon felt his hand clench into a fist. He wanted to repay that snort back.

He heard someone move behind him. He looked back and saw Mya there. "More drink, my prince?" she asked him, holding a wine pitcher. She cast a single look at Lady Margaery and the Tyrell rose fell silent.

Jon kept the smile growing on his face to himself. Mya had already told him about how she was allowed to yell at the Tyrells. It was a decision that they had regretted the moment she opened her mouth. Now, it was clear that they remembered that and were a little nervous around her. He saw the prince moving from his eye's corner. One quick look and he saw that Prince Aegon was grinning.

"I am fine, Mya," he assured her. He hadn't touched his goblet yet. She had come over to stop the Tyrells. He was glad for her help.

She removed the pitcher from his sight and walked away. She came up behind Rhaenys. "My lady?" she asked her.

Rhaenys held her goblet. "Thank you, Mya."

The feast continued. Jon quickly felt his good mood leave him. It seemed that praise was heaped upon the Tyrells and they grew smugger with each new praise. While Lady Margaery was able to look humble with her beauty and grace being praised, Jon could tell that she was proud that she was praised and no one else.

Her brother wasn't so subtle. Each time his sword arm or horse-riding skills were praised, he grew smugger. He looked at Jon and each looked proclaimed how much better he was than him. Each time he saw the look, his anger would grow. He tried to force himself not to look, to find something else to keep his attention. But the looks were still there and they kept stirring his anger.

He was so willing to ignore the looks that he finally chose to talk to Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys. She was happier than him that Jon was actually talking to them. But whatever the chance of the conversation between the three of them being good were soured when Loras Tyrell opened his mouth. He seemed to have something to say anything and everything about Jon, things that were never good.

Finally, after hearing someone giving Loras a toast to his horsemanship and the Tyrell quipping that Robb had to have known he was better and dismounted because of it, he had had enough. He pushed back from the table and stood up, a motion that caused everyone at the feast to stop and look at him.

The first thought that came to him was _"This is a bad idea."_ He didn't want this to happen. He was tempted to sit back down, but he looked at Loras Tyrell and he stayed standing.

"Daemon," said the king. "Do you have something to say?"

He did. And he had the words to say. "I do, my king." He reached down and picked up his goblet, holding up for all to see. "A toast to Ser Loras Tyrell, for he is truly like his father." He paused and everyone leaned in to hear what he had to say. "He has a remarkable talent for sitting on his arse."

Silence reigned true in the feast. And then, someone began to laugh. It started from the lower tables and grew until the entire hall shook with their laughter. He saw Quentyn laughing alongside his uncle, sister, and Ser Daemon Sand. He saw Sam looking surprised but also laughing quietly to himself. He didn't need to look at the Tyrells to know that they were stunned. The people who had been praising them were now laughing right in their faces. "How dare you?" demanded Loras.

He looked at the fuming Tyrell. "I speak only the truth, ser. At Riverrun, when my fight with Lord Redwyne's sons, Robb Stark dismounted his horse and came to my aide. You, on the other hand, continued to sit in your saddle like a child not understanding his maester's lesson. Of course, considering how weak your sword arm is, your jousting skills should be called into question too."

"What!?" he roared.

Jon did not stop. He was paying back every look and comment he had gotten from the arrogant southron today. "People have all made tales about how you are have the best sword in the Seven Kingdoms, save for Prince Aegon. And yet, when you came for me and demanded a spar, I beat you easily." That day, he had come to the spar intent on fighting as if his life depended on it. Loras did not. Instead he treated like he was about to give someone a lesson, looking quite bored with everything. That was what cost him the spar. "Perhaps if the joust had continued as it should have, Robb would have unhorsed you."

Ser Loras's face mottled red in rage. He stood up with his goblet in hand. "YOU BASTARD!" he screamed, throwing the wine at Jon.

The wine smelled almost sickeningly sweet as it splashed against his clothes, skin, and hair. His nose was filled with the smell of grapes. The laughter died away in that moment. They all stared at him, shock and fear showing in their eyes. They wondered what he would do next. Since they knew him as a dragon, they must've thought that he would yell or shout.

But he didn't. The anger that burned like a fire at the earlier insults froze by a chilling wind. He was not a dragon that would burn everything in its rage. He was a wolf and he would make the spoiled brat know it. The wine dribbled into his eyes. He wiped it away. "You are right, ser. I am a bastard."

The king stood up. "Daemon—"

He kept talking. "I am a bastard. I was born a bastard. I was raised a bastard. And even though you call me that like it is supposed to be an insult, you yourself wish to be called a bastard."

Loras's face mottled again. "Say that again."

"You wish to be a bastard. I knew it when I first heard the title they gave you. The Knight of Flowers," he said derisively. "Tell me, ser, did you not object to the title because you wished to be known as Ser Flowers? Or was it because you are so witless that you did not notice what the name could mean? If it is the first, then I must wonder why it is that you hate your family so much."

"You take that back right now!"

He nodded in acquiescence. "Very well, I do take it back. I understand what a family means, whether to a trueborn or a bastard. But what I said remains true. You did nothing while Robb did. He was the embodiment of knighthood whist you sat and did nothing. And now I find you prickly when told the truth." He looked to the prince. "Prince Aegon, was there a plan to name Ser Loras to the Kingsguard?"

Aegon looked almost surprised that he was called upon. He was able to school his surprise into a mask of neutrality. "People have been talking about how he would make a good addition."

"Ignore them and don't give him entry. I find him too rude, arrogant, and more concerned about heaping glory upon himself instead obeying the mandate of the Kingsguard: to guard the king." His piece said he sat down in his seat. Margaery Tyrell moved her seat as far away as she could from him without actually moving it. Loras glared at him to death. He ignored them both. The rest of the feast, he chose to talk only to the royal family, when they asked him something. Aside from that, he stayed silent. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ser Jaime Lannister. The Kingsguard looked…like he approved.

* * *

He thought that was the end of it, until he went back to his chambers and found Rhaenys there. "Princess," he said, closing the door behind him, "What are you doing here?"

She folded her arms and eyed him. "I can't visit my brother?" she asked.

The wave of uneasiness he always felt when someone mentioned that he was supposedly a part of the royal family. "Your Highness—"

"Rhaenys," she said, stopping him. "My name is Rhaenys." She didn't wait for him to answer before she continued. "You insulted House Tyrell tonight."

His back stiffened. "I will not apologize for it."

She smiled and it was a beautiful thing. "I know. I'm not asking you to. Seven knows that they can be unbearable. I always enjoy seeing getting knocked down like that." She walked up to him and kissed him.

His hands instinctively went to her sides and pulled her closer. Her scent, spicy and yet warm too, drowned. She kissed him back and his body agreed with the sentiment. His sword was rising and sharpening just from a single kiss. But then his mind came back to him. He stopped kissing her and pulled himself away.

But she wouldn't let him go so easily. "Why did you stop?" she asked. "Is it because you think yourself a bastard? Or is it because we are brother and sister?"

If he was being honest, it was the former. But since she brought up the latter, he couldn't help but think about that too. "Yes," he said.

She frowned. She reached and cupped his cheek with her hand. "You are not a bastard. We're Targaryens. What this is, it is only natural for us."

It was incest. There was nothing else about it. It was an affront to the eyes of gods and men alike. _"It's wrong,"_ he told himself. But the more he looked at Rhaenys, saw her dressed in a deep red dressed that made her skin seem to glow and leaving her shoulders bare, he found the excuse didn't work.

She must've seen the desire in his eyes. "At Riverrun, you said that you couldn't give me what I deserved, that I should want a man who can make me happy and safe. Things have changed since then. You can give me those things." She stepped in close and pressed herself against his body. "You still love me, don't you?"

He did. Having her like this, feeling her body with his own, it was more than he could've hoped for. He never thought that he would fall in love with anyone. If he had, it certainly wouldn't have been with a princess. But holding her now, kissing her, it felt right. And that terrified him completely. "Yes," he whispered into her hair, the word coming out as a prayer. "But—"

"No," she told him. "You are here, now. Things are different. You are not who we thought you were. There are no buts. We can be together."

He couldn't find it in himself to say no. For the first time in his life, he thought that never seeing Winterfell or the North wouldn't be such a bad thing. That terrified him even more than kissing Rhaenys. "You should go," he told her, forcing himself to say those words.

She left with no argument. Why would she? She had him and he didn't find it so bad.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

And the walls of Jon start to crumble down. It's not an instant thing but it is happening.

A lot of people had wondered who Cersei's husband was. Here he is, at least partially. And because Cersei did one little act of defiance, no one knows if her son will inherent the Rock or Tyrion. You'll probably wonder why she had done something so foolish, reckless, and stupid. Well, we are talking about Cersei here. Who knows? Maybe her husband looked similar to Jaime.

Jon's chewing out Loras came to mind when Mya chewed out everyone else. I felt the line she used on Mace was too good to leave it at once. There had to be a repeat. Also, has no one else notice the dangerous ground Loras put himself on with a title like the Knight of Flowers? If he really wanted to avoid it, he should've called himself the Knight of Roses. That's much safer.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	33. Chapter 33

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 33: Rhaella

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: King's Landing)

The entire court was waiting when the herald banged his staff. "His royal Highness, Prince Viserys Targaryen," he announced. The doors opened and Rhaella watched her son stride through them. Already she could tell that there would be trouble.

There was a sword at his side. It was a plain thing, no gilded gold on the hilt or art on the cross-guard. She knew that the North preferred plainer things for their weapons, seeing that making them pretty would be foolish. But there was something else about that sword that made her uneasy. The way he held it in his grip, how he walked through to the throne, the set look on his face. They all told her one thing. _"My son has come for battle."_

"Viserys, welcome home," Rhaegar said, sitting upon the Iron Throne. "We did not expect you here." It wasn't very true since they received word from Varys that he had been coming from the kingsroad.

"Hello, Rhaegar," said his brother. "I would say that is good to be home, but I did not come for the pleasantries."

The court muttered amongst themselves. Rhaella felt nervous as she stood beside the Iron Throne along with Dany. She looked down at the alcoves and saw the Martells standing there. Both Oberyn and Arianne glared at her son. Quentyn was more concerned looking at her grandchildren, or rather just one of them.

She followed his gaze subtly. Daemon looked most uncomfortable standing beside his brother and sister. He was clad in the black and red of their house, more black than red. In this way he complimented his brother, who wore more red than black. He kept his eyes down away from the court. He was unused to being at the forefront.

Her eldest looked concerned. He leaned forward on the Iron Throne carefully. "If you are not here for the pleasantries, what are you here for, Viserys?"

"I come with a demand from Robb Stark."

He frowned sternly. "A demand?" he repeated, a tone of anger coating his voice. "What kind of demand does Lord Stark's heir want from his king?"

"One you can easily give him. His demand is simple: he wants his brother back."

The court was silent and Daemon's eyes shined with a sudden hope. Rhaegar did not react like the court, with stunned surprise. He saw the hope in Daemon's eyes and looked sad at them. But the sadness vanished when he looked at Viserys. "What brother does Robb Stark talk about?"

Viserys scowled. "You know damn well which brother he's talking about, Rhaegar."

He shook his head. "I'm afraid I do not." Rhaella could already see what her son was planning to do. She knew that both Viserys and Daemon weren't going to like it. "I have no brother of Robb Stark."

"Then what do you call him?" he asked, pointing his finger right at Daemon. All the eyes in the room followed the finger to look at him.

Daemon looked even more uncomfortable but he stepped forward. "How is everyone, Prince Viserys?" he asked.

"They are well, Jon. But they wish you were with them back in Winterfell."

Daemon smiled and Rhaella heard every young maiden in the court sigh with longing. She couldn't blame them. There was just something about that smile that caught the eye. She remembered that Daemon's mother had the same smile back in Harrenhal only she smiled much more often.

"I see who you refer to now, Viserys," said Rhaegar. "You speak of your nephew, my son, Daemon."

"No, I speak of Jon Snow, Robb Stark's brother."

"Such a person does not exist. He was a lie to hide Daemon from his true family." Daemon looked up at him with a gaped jaw, eyes wide in shocked horror.

Viserys didn't believe a word he said. "Is that the tale you're spinning, brother?"

"It is the truth."

"Just like your 'truth' that Jon is Lyanna's son. All I see is a son of Eddard Stark standing before me."

Rhaegar frowned. It made him look more stern and kingly. "I know what a son of my wife looks like, Viserys. Surely you can say the same." The court was stunned by his words. They must've always assumed that Daemon was a royal bastard. But if Rhaegar truly married Lyanna (she assumed with Elia's blessing, for now she also assumed that her gooddaughter loved the Stark girl too), it made Daemon a trueborn son.

"Of course I know what a son of yours looks like, my king," Viserys told him. "I see him standing right there." He pointed right at Aegon.

The crown prince saw the finger pointing at him. "I don't think I'm the son my father's talking about, Uncle."

"You are the only son of Rhaegar I recognize."

Rhaella frowned at his words. _"That was uncalled for, Viserys."_ He did not need to deny what Daemon was in front of the entire court. It was cruel, to say the least. But when she looked at Daemon, she did not him hurt or saddened by his uncle's words. In fact, he looked glad.

"Enough of this," Rhaegar declared. "Why is Robb Stark or Eddard Stark not here themselves to tell me this? I would hear from their mouths."

She watched one of her sons look at the other like he was the greatest fool he had ever seen. "The last time a Stark came to King's Landing to bring back one of their own, one was burned to death, the second was strangled trying to free his father. Now, will you let me take Jon Snow back to his brother, where he belongs?"

"I have already said that Jon Snow does not exist," he declared for all to hear. "If Lord Stark or his heir is in fear of coming to the capital, they need be so. In fact, I welcome them and offer them my personal pledge of safe conduct."

Viserys's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why would you welcome them to King's Landing if you claim that they took your so-called son and hid him in Winterfell?"

"Even they did such a thing to this family, Daemon is still their cousin and he did live with them. They raised him right. For that, I thank them and welcome them to attend his wedding."

"Wedding?" he repeated.

The king nodded once. "Yes. In a month's time, Daemon shall marry Rhaenys."

"What!?" shouted both Daemon and, surprisingly, Aegon. Both sons looked at their father while the court started talking amongst themselves about the news. Rhaella saw that Rhaenys looked happy, as if she was glad that the news was finally out and everyone had heard it. She looked at Daemon, expecting him to have that same happiness. But he stared at their father with a growing sense of horror and shock. Aegon, oddly enough, just looked absolutely furious.

Viserys didn't say anything to that. He looked up at his brother, trying to decipher the hidden meaning of his words. "Is that all you have to say on the matter, brother?" he asked.

"It has long been decided. Their marriage will heal what broken blood there is between House Stark and House Martell."

"I see. Then I will go back to Robb Stark and tell him that. And then we will march onto King's Landing with the might of the North at our back to rescue Jon Snow."

Rhaella was stunned by that proclamation. And she wasn't alone. Everyone in the court stared at Viserys with absolute shock. He had all but outright declared outright war on his brother, the king. The Dance of the Dragons loomed in Rhaella's mind. Would it happen again? _"No, Viserys,"_ she silently told her son. He could not let it happen again.

Rhaegar was as horrified as she was. But he was also furious. "You would march to war against your own blood, Viserys?" he asked.

"If it is to right a wrong, yes I would," Viserys said defiantly. He looked at Daemon. "The Pack hasn't forgotten you, Jon. They won't leave you here."

Daemon's eyes sored with hope. Rhaella remembered the Pack at Riverrun and thought that declaration lip service. She had rarely seen the Pack and Daemon together. They were more concerned about being around Robb Stark.

Someone started guffawing in the court. "The might of the North?" repeated Lord Mace Tyrell, moving to the front so he could stand before the Iron Throne. "As I recall, the might of the North is only good for sweeping ironmen back out to the sea. My king, let us join forces and run these wolves back to their dens and ensure they stay there!"

Men from the Reach cheered their lord's suggestion, as did many a young knight eager for combat. But then Viserys spoke again. "You run the risk of your sons' lives if you do that, my lord."

The cheering died instantly. "What did you say, Prince Viserys?" Mace asked him, a look of horror growing on his face. It was a look that was matched by the ones on his remaining son and only daughter, standing close to him.

"I said that you run the risks of your sons' lives if you march against the North." He turned his head to look at the court and all the lords standing there. "The same goes for your heir, Lord Arryn, your brother, Lord Baratheon, and your brother and cousins, Princess Martell. Robb Stark waits for me at Riverrun."

Horror filled Rhaella as she realized what her son was saying. The Northern army had come to Riverrun and took all of those who stayed behind hostage. That was their insurance against the rest of Westeros. _"A Stark coming alone to King's Landing is liable to die. A Stark coming to King's Landing with an army is a great and terrible thing,"_ she thought to herself when she realized that this had happened before. Cregan Stark had come to King's Landing at the end of the Dance and reigned as Hand to Aegon III for a day, a time that was now called the Hour of the Wolf. Again, she saw history repeating itself.

"And what does Lord Stark say about this?" asked the king. "Does he support his heir's actions?"

"Lord Stark knows Robb is at Riverrun." It was not an answer, not an actual one. It told them nothing of the Warden of the North.

Daenerys stepped forward from Rhaella's side and walked up to Viserys. The whole court watched her as she went to him. She took him by the hand and looked up at him. "Don't do this, brother," she told him. "Don't split this family apart. We are all here, once more. This should be cause for celebration."

He reached out and touched her cheek tenderly. "I wish that it was so, Dany. But we are now in a war. I have no choice." He looked past her up the Iron Throne, to their brother. "Are you going to put me in irons and throw me into the black cells, brother?" There was a challenge to his voice. He wanted Rhaegar to do it. Why, Rhaella didn't know. She didn't want any of this to happen.

"No," said Rhaegar, shaking his head. The court and the Small Council looked at him with shock. He ignored them. "They will most likely name this moment as one of my great follies whether I am victorious in this war or defeated. But I will not throw you into the dungeons. You are my brother, Viserys. You may have been raised amongst the wolves like Daemon, but you are both dragons, both of the blood. You are my family and I will not you, not until I am forced." He paused and declared regally, "But you will not stay here. You have until night falls to say goodbye and leave. After that, we will meet each other upon on the battlefield."

"Thank you for that kindness, Rhaegar. That gives me time to take care of my other business." He turned and walked to the Martells. "Your Highnesses, I ask you to meet me and my lady mother in one hour's time in the godswood." They were shocked to hear him ask such a thing. He didn't stop there. "There are things that need to be told."

* * *

An hour later, Rhaella stood beside Viserys before the heart tree. Sandor stood behind them, his hand grip tight over his sword. When the Martells finally arrived, she saw that both Oberyn's and Arianne's eyes were hard. Quentyn's were more cautious. "Good day to you, Prince Oberyn, Princess Arianne, and Prince Quentyn," Viserys greeted them.

"Why are we here?" Arianne asked without preamble. "Why did you want to talk here?"

"So the gods can hear my words and know them to be true."

Oberyn scoffed mockingly at that. "The gods?" he said. "Have you truly become a Northerner?"

He shrugged. "I found them to be simpler than the Seven. If you wish to judge me based on whom I worship, than I am proud to be a Northerner."

"A savage people who hold loved ones hostage so we cannot act against them," Arianne said with a nasty bite to her voice. Her face was equally as nasty. But Rhaella knew it wasn't just because of what the Northerners supposedly did. It was also because of what happened at Riverrun.

Viserys looked at her steadily. "Princess, every side to a war does that," he said, sounding like a maester teaching a slow child. "And they are being treated with every hospitality and courtesy."

Prince Quentyn looked serious and calm. Rhaella could see his father in him when he behaved so. "Is this what we came out here to discuss?" he asked.

Viserys became serious, his mouth losing the hint of the smile he wore. "No, it is not," he said to them all. "I asked you to meet me here so you could know the true reason why I refused to be betrothed to Princess Arianne."

She glared hatefully at him when she was mentioned. "You made it perfectly clear why you didn't want to marry me."

"That was a reason, not the reason. I stand by what I said, Princess. If you look at other men and hunger for them now, how will I know that you will stay faithful to me if we were married?" He stopped himself before he said anything else. It was a visible reaction. Rhaella watched her son pull back the anger like a wolf stopping itself from snarling. "I did not come here to tell you that. You already know it."

"Then what did you come here to tell me?"

"That I am mad."

The entire godswood felt suffocating in its silent at that moment. As she looked at her son, Rhaella only felt horror and fear. _"No,"_ she thought to herself. _"Please no, not him. Not my son."_ She could still remember Aerys and the madness that had sunk into him. Viserys didn't have that same look of madness. But he sounded so sure about what he said, it made her afraid.

She saw how Oberyn looked her son over with a new eye. Gone was the angry father who would mock anyone that his ire. Now it was the Red Viper who stood before them, eyeing his target so he could protect his family. "If you are mad," he finally said, "you have done a good deal of hiding it."

"Not hiding, suppressing it," Viserys told him. "But I am mad, Prince Oberyn. My father's madness runs through my blood, as does his voice." He reached up and touched his head. "I can hear him in here, his voice just one of many. They whisper to me, wanting me to look at everyone as if they were an enemy come to kill me. They urge me to stop them before they can do anything. And there is one thing they keep repeating again and again: burn them all." His voice changed slightly at those words, a rasp of a madden man. She thought of Aerys. He had that same rasp. And there was that gleam in the eyes. He had it and now her son had it too.

Viserys closed his eyes and breathed deeply. It looked like he was trying to stop the voices right then and there. He opened them and the gleam was gone. "I felt my madness when I was sparring in Winterfell, learning alongside Robb, showing him what to do. But I was beaten too many times by the master-at-arms, Ser Cassel, and the voices demanded that I show him that a dragon should be mocked.

"I…I don't know what happened exactly, but the next thing I remembered was Robb screaming for me to stop and the guards pulling me off Ser Cassel. My hands had been around his throat and he gasped for air. I saw how the guards looked at me, like some crazed beast. The voices whispered that I should burn them all. They were overpowering, scaring me. Before I could fall for their orders again, I ran. I ran to the only safety I knew, my rooms.

"I hid there, afraid of what would become of me. I did not leave for three days. But it proved to be far worse than I thought. Alone, the voices grew louder and louder, becoming more vocal with each passing minute. They screamed for me to show everyone how they belonged underneath my feet. I tried to block them out, but they just screamed louder. I thought that I would be forever cursed to hear those voices scream.

He paused and a smile, a warm caring one, came onto his face. In that moment, he looked like the Aerys Rhaella wished had lived, the young man that wasn't consumed by madness. "As night fell, the door to my room opened. I expected Lord Stark or his wife to walk through that door, to bring judgement down upon me. Instead, it was Sansa, a girl of seven years. She walked in and asked me if I was coming to supper. When I didn't say anything, she asked if I was alright.

"Somehow, her voice broke through the ones in my head. I could think clearly again. And I knew that I didn't want Sansa anywhere near me. I told her to go, to leave me be. She was confused and asked me again if I was alright. I told that I wasn't and I thought that I was becoming that I didn't want to be. I didn't want her to see what could happen. But she just smiled brightly, walked over to me, and gave me a hug. 'That's okay,' she said, 'I still love you.'

"The voices died away completely when she said those words. Not only that, but they stay silent whenever I am close to Sansa, close enough to hold her hand in mine. She is the balm that calms my madness, the ice that cools my fire." He looked hard at Arianne, eyes full of wrathful fury. "And you threatened to take that away from me."

The severity of his words now hung them all like a heavy storm cloud. For a long moment, Oberyn and Arianne didn't say anything. Rhaella was nervous about what would come next. Would they rage and argue the point? She looked to Prince Quentyn and again saw his father in him. She hoped that if things turned worse, he would be able to calm his sister and his uncle. She looked again at her son and saw just how much he looked like his father in that moment. He was angry, but it wasn't the anger of madness. It was the anger of someone who was insulted and wanted an apology.

"If that is why you refuse the betrothal to my niece," said Oberyn, sounding calm, "Than we apologize for what happened at Riverrun." He still sounded calm and that worried Rhaella. She knew that he could be like a viper, calm one moment and then attacking the next. She waited to see what would happen next.

But he didn't lash out at them. Instead he looked to Arianne. She looked up at him, her face scrunched in a frown. His eyes were hard and unyielding. She couldn't hold his look and so she turned to Viserys. "I ask for your forgiveness, Prince Viserys," she asked him.

Rhaella waited for her son to demand more than that. But he only nodded. "I accept."

She breathed in relief. _"You should be ashamed of yourself, Rhaella,"_ she told herself. _"This is your son."_ He was not Aerys. He was trying to hold his madness.

He turned to leave and she turned with him. Sandor stood at the ready to follow them. Before they left, Arianne spoke out. "I would have loved you."

Viserys froze in place. He turned back and looked hard at you. "I don't think you would," he said bitingly. "I don't think you even know what love is."

Anger flashed in her eyes. "I do know what love is!"

"No, you don't. All you know is passion and sex. That's not all love is."

"And you do?"

"Arianne!" snapped Oberyn.

Viserys looked defiantly at her. "I do know what love is. Love is a fire in the middle of winter."

Rhaella looked at him and tried to figure out what he meant by that. She wasn't the only one who was. "Pray tell, Prince Viserys," said Quentyn, "what does that mean?"

"It's something that I learned in the North. There, a fire keeps you warm in the throes of winter. It keeps you fed when it cooks the food you bring it. You keep it all for yourself so you won't feel the cold. To love is to allow someone to come and share that fire's warmth with you. It requires trust, trust in the person that they won't steal the fire or ruin it. You'd be willing to share that fire, through all the cold winter nights, with that person for the rest of your life. That is what love is."

As she listened to her son describe love, Rhaella was proud for him. There was a touch of the poet inside of him. To her great surprise, Oberyn nodded in agreement. "He's right," the Red Viper said. "The Orphans of the Greenblood have something similar. To them, love is water in the desert. You only share it with someone you trust completely and utterly."

Viserys nodded in agreement. "Yes, that rings true. You know it too, Prince Oberyn." A smile appeared on his face. "You're in love with your lady Ellaria. I'm surprised you're not married to her."

To Rhaella's surprise, and to the surprise of his niece and nephew, Oberyn laughed. "I find that I don't need to tie myself down like that, Prince. There are plenty of people out in the world. Why should I keep myself to one, especially when that one shares my…appetites?" The way he paused when he said that last word, he was probably trying to find one that wasn't so foul.

"That's not love, Prince Oberyn," Viserys declared. "That's passion. What you and Lady Ellaria have, that is love. Some of the clans I've met in the North, they would called the two of you husband and wife and left it at that."

"Would they now?"

"They have something similar. I think there's a ceremony but I've been led to believe that if a man and a woman live together as husband and wife, they're considered to be."

"I see. I think that I misjudged you, Prince Viserys."

"I have been what I was raised, Prince Oberyn," he replied. He was not insulting the man. Rhaella heard it in his voice. He was speaking the truth as he saw it.

This time when they left, the Martells said nothing that stopped them. Rhaella walked through the godswood with her son at her side. "Is that really what happened, Viserys?" she asked him. "Is what you said the truth?"

"Yes, Mother," he told her, sadness coating his voice. "I'm sorry. I am mad."

"Not that. I don't care about that." It was a small lie but she wasn't going to let that be a concern. "I mean what you said about Sansa Stark. Do you love her?"

He nodded. "I do. She is the balm to my madness. With her, I can be at peace. It's because I love that I would stay in the North with her. I don't want to take her down to the south, where the game would take hold of us both."

Her son sounded adamant about his desire. She looked at him once more and saw just how Northern he looked. She found that it suited him well. "Lord Stark raised you well," she declared. "I wish I could tell him that myself."

Viserys looked at her with a cautious eye. It hurt to see her own son look at her like that. "You wouldn't want to say anything else to him?" he asked.

He didn't say what those things would be. He didn't have to. She knew. But that didn't matter. "You would be first of my concerns when it comes to Eddard Stark," she declared.

Viserys didn't say anything right away. He looked back, at the heart tree. "He was not the only one."

She was sure that other men in Winterfell had taught her son to be the man she saw before her. But there was something in the way he said those words. "What do you mean?"

"Sometimes, I think that I have more than our family's madness, Mother. I think that I also have our perchance for dreams."

She didn't like that idea. When it came to Targaryens and dreams, it was never a good thing. Aerys dreamed about much. Towards the end, it was about fire, only fire. Rhaegar had dreams too, until the rebellion shattered them. Now her second son, the one who she was forced to send away, claimed to be the same. "What dreams have you been having?" she forced herself to ask.

"It's not multiple dreams, but a single dream I had once. It happened when I first came to Winterfell and acted like a spoiled little prince." His self-mocking tone showed what he thought about his younger self. "I thought that my name, my position as a prince, would make me better than all the savages I found myself surrounded in."

"Viserys…"

"I was angry, Mother. I was angry at being sent away from all I knew. And I did think myself better than everyone else. Lord Stark did try to teach me to be an honorable man, but I looked down at him for what he tried to do and I refused to listen. I would not even listen to his maester's teachings. One day, I just ran away and hid inside the godswood. I waited there to see if anyone would come looking for me.

"But no one did. It was like they had forgotten that I was alive. I waited but no one would show. When night fell and my stomach begged for food, my pride as a Targaryen would not let me go back and beg for their scraps. I fell asleep in the godswood, against the trunk of the heart tree. There, I dreamed."

She didn't know what would come next from his lips. But she would not stop herself from asking the question. It had to be asked now. "What did you dream of?"

"A different world, a world Robert Baratheon killed Rhaegar at the Trident and took the Iron Throne for himself. The Targaryens were broken and cast out of Westeros. You were dead, Mother, leaving just me and Dany. We were forced to wander Essos, living at the mercy of other people and their generosity.

"But I saw more than that. I saw myself. I saw myself consumed with the madness of our family. I saw myself as prideful but ignorant. I saw myself believing that Westeros would rise for our family even when the fact that we had been outcast since the rebellion showed otherwise. I saw myself put on airs that I did not deserve and act with authority and power that I did not have. People openly mocked me and I did nothing except complain about the lack of respect I thought was rightfully mine. In the end, I died. I died of my stupidity and want of a crown. I got one. A crown of melted gold, poured over my head, all because I was consumed with my madness and foolishness.

"I woke up with a scream and I will swear I felt the burning gold on my head. I could hear all the people laughing at me. It was faint, like a whisper, but I could hear them all the same. I could've passed it off as a feverish dream, yet I saw what I could become. I vowed to never let it happen. I would never become that kind of Viserys. I came out of the godswood to Lord Stark. I asked for his forgiveness for how I behaved to everyone and I asked him to teach me to be strong." He smiled proudly and happily. "He did."

Rhaella didn't know what she should say to all of that. Should she be horrified at what he described? Should she be happy that he didn't turn out like he said he was? Should she be scared that the madness was inside him and there was always the chance that it could break free? She didn't know.

In the end, she settled for one. She was proud. She was proud of her son and what he had become. So she told him, "I'm glad that you are who you are now, Viserys."

"Thank you, Mother." He paused in thought. "Now that I think about it, I did see something else in that dream. But I don't know…" He stopped himself. "Ah, it's best not to worry about it now."

"Worry about what?"

He looked at her. "We should keep an eye on Dany, Mother. I get the feeling that if she ever gets her hands on a dragon she's going to change the world."

That made no sense to her. "Viserys, the dragons are dead. They've been dead for a long time." She had seen her family's obsession with dragons at Summerhall. She didn't want to see it any more.

But her son just smiled. "Perhaps they will come again. Perhaps they are already here and we don't know it yet. One can never be too sure."

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

 _That's_ what the North has been doing.

Yes Viserys did dream the canon story. I thought it would be a nice touch. Plus it would help scare the crap of Viserys to see what he might end up becoming. As regards to his madness and Sansa helping him keep it contained, look back through the story. You'll notice every time that Viserys is on the verge of losing it, he remembers that Sansa is right there, holding his hand. It calms him down right away.

If you're wondering why Aegon reacted like that when Rhaegar announced the wedding, that'll be covered. It'll also bring what he has going on with both Mya and Margaery to a head.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	34. Chapter 34

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 34: Aegon

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: King's Landing)

Aegon stared hard at both his parents. They stood alone in the Small Council chamber with the table standing between them. "I can't believe that you would do this!" he told them. "How can you not see that it is hypocrisy of the highest level?" They were going to marry Rhaenys off to the man she loved but he had to marry Margaery Tyrell? How he wanted to howl at the injustice of it.

But his parents were resolute. "You don't wish to see your sister and brother happy, Aegon?" asked Mother. "Surely you can see how much they loved each other."

He didn't care about that. It was beside the point. "What about my happiness?" he demanded. "What about the one I love?"

Father came around the table to him. He placed his hands on his shoulders. "My son, your love belongs—"

"No!" he snapped, shaking off the hands. "No, I am sick of this lie that you have been trying to force feed me. I do not love Margaery Tyrell. I have never loved Margaery Tyrell. I will never love Margaery Tyrell. The one I love is Mya Stone, and you both know it!" He couldn't it more obvious if he had tried!

Mother's eyes were kind and sympathetic. "We have never denied who you claim to love, Aegon," she said. "We have only denied what you want from her. If you do love her like you claim, than the solution is simple."

He realized what she was suggesting. She meant it to sooth his conscious. It didn't. In fact, he was angered even more. "You mean make her my whore."

She shook her head. "No, not your whore," she said, "Your paramour."

"We are not in Dorne, Mother. I could dress it up however I would like but the people, highborn and low, would call her a whore. She already suffers enough for being Robert Baratheon's child. I will not make her suffer any more than that."

Father was solemn as he said, "Aegon, you cannot break faith with the Tyrells for what you want. They have given the crown good faith throughout the years. It must be repaid."

"They have given what is expected of them. We gain nothing from marrying them except what they want. But if I marry Mya, it would help mend our ties with the Stormlands, the same as our ties with the North in Rhaenys's marriage." He could see the political outcome of that marriage and he wouldn't dispute it. What he did dispute was the thought that it was happening for the sake of love.

Father listened. When Aegon was done, he spoke. "You've thought about this."

"I have." He hoped that they would listen to what he offered.

But the king remained resolute. "Despite what you wish could happen, Aegon, nothing can be changed. You will not marry Mya Stone."

Anger and outrage poured through his blood. He could not believe that they would still do this. They had to have seen how many Tyrells were in the capital just when Margaery had come for the official betrothal alone! But they were going to let Rhaenys marry who she wanted? "I cannot believe that my family is this hypocritical!" he shouted at them both.

"Aegon," Mother said. Her voice had a slight edge and her eyes narrowed. That was usually enough to tell her two children that she was angry with them.

But he didn't stop. "No, Mother! You are hypocrites, both of you! You will let Rhaenys marry the one she claims to love but you will willingly damn me to a marriage that I don't want! It's hypocritical!" He could feel his blood burning with in rage and anger. He didn't care to stop it.

"This will not change, Aegon," Father said sternly. "You will marry Margaery Tyrell. It is a promise that has been made between our two houses. It must be kept. You must keep it! It is your duty as the crown prince!"

"I! DON'T! CARE!"

 _SMACK!_

Aegon found himself on the floor, his cheek singing with pain. He wasn't sure what had just happened. He touched his cheek and hissed from the pain he felt there. He looked up at his father lowering his hand. His father had struck him, actually struck him. That was something he had never done before. He was stunned by the action.

"You must care, Aegon," Father told him. "I understand what you want. I do. But we are royalty. We have a duty to the Seven Kingdoms and I will not have you fail that duty. Aegon V's sons shirked their duties and caused the beginnings of our house's downfall. That downfall was averted by our winning the rebellion and _that_ was because their full force was not against us. We have done what we can to mend the ties but Westeros still stand precariously on the edge. If you marry Mya Stone, you will tip Westeros over that edge. Will you do that, Aegon?"

He stood back up and glared hard at his father. "It's already been tipped, Father. You did with your actions at Riverrun."

The king's eyes hardened. "I did what had to be done to bring your brother back to us. This isn't about him. It is about you, Aegon. If you will not answer my question, then this discussion is over. You are dismissed." The tone in his voice showed how final his words were.

Aegon wanted to keep arguing, keep protesting, but the dismissal was clear. He walked out of the room. He wanted to stomp out but it would only show much of a child he was. He refused to give his parents that satisfaction. When he left the room, he kept walking. He didn't realize where he was going until he was almost there. By then, he didn't stop himself.

Ser Barristan stood guard at the door. "Your Highness," he greeted the prince. He didn't ask why he was there.

Aegon gave him a curt nod and walked through the door. He found Jon sitting at his parlor table along with Quentyn, Ser Daemon Sand, and Samwell Tarly. They looked like they were deep in a conversation that had all of their attentions. He took that moment to look at Jon, truly look at him.

Truth be told, he had doubts about who Jon Snow was. Try as he might, Aegon could not find anything that marked the bastard as a Targaryen. He looked for more than just their silver-gold hair or purple eyes. He tried to look for anything, mannerisms, the shape of his face, or the way he moved. Nothing the prince saw convinced him that Jon Snow was supposedly Daemon Targaryen. It was why he never referred to him as Daemon, at least privately.

The only truth that said he was came from the king and the queen. And while Aegon never knew his parents to be liars, the story they told about Lyanna Stark just seemed a little too far-fetched to be real. No matter what they said, the man who knew all of the truth was Eddard Stark.

" _Perhaps that is why he will not come south,"_ he thought to himself. _"He sends his son to ride for war so he will not have to and be forced to answer the question."_ He was absolutely sure that Lord Stark and the northern lords supported what the Pack was doing at Riverrun. Varys's little birds reported that there was an army, almost 20,000 men, sitting at Riverrun. It was not possible for lords' sons to amass that many men just by themselves. Their fathers had to have given their blessings.

"Oh, Prince Aegon," said the Tarly boy. The four of them stood up from their table and turned to face him.

He walked over to the table and looked at them all. Quentyn and Ser Daemon did not look worried while Sam and Jon were concerned. "What are we discussing?" he asked them.

"The Long Night, coz," Quentyn told him. "Sam here had an interesting theory about how it ended."

"Oh? Do tell, Samwell Tarly."

The fat boy looked like he was about to piss his pants. "W-Well, your Highness," he began, sounding like he was trying to control his stuttering, "All the legends of the Long Night say that single person turned the tide and drove back the Others. But the name of that person is different with each legend. We have Azor Ahai, Hyrkoon the Hero, Eldric Shadowchaser, Neferion, and Yin Tar."

Some of those names he had heard, some he had not. "Very well," he said. "What do they have to do with your theory?"

"My…" He had to stop and breathe. Just how much of a craven was this boy? "My theory is that these aren't multiple names for one person but a name for each person."

Aegon could admit that it sounded interesting but he failed to see what made it so interesting. "How is that relevant?"

"His theory goes just a little further than that, Aegon," Quentyn spoke up. "He thinks that these people all came together and fought against the Others."

"They would the founders of the Night's Watch," Jon said, almost quietly so.

" _Now I see it,"_ Aegon thought. It did make a certain sense. But he had always known that a theory had people who believed it and people who didn't. "So, how many of you disagree with the theory?" he asked. "You were talking rather intently."

"Actually, we all agree with the theory," his cousin told him.

It was surprising to hear that but he didn't object. He waited for them to continue. Ser Daemon didn't disappoint. "We all found the tale plausible, your Highness. What we were talking about was the logistics of it."

"Since the Wall was made at the edge of the North, we must assume that's how the Others came to the rest of the world," Samwell explained. "We also think that the final battle took place somewhere around there. What we were trying to understand was how these people, from different places in the world, were able to come together and lead an army to drive off an enemy at this location." As he spoke, his stuttering and frightened nervousness faded away. He became more passionate about what he spoke. He enjoyed it.

"Tell me this," Aegon asked them all. "Why do you all agree with this theory? All the stories or songs I've heard say that a single person drove back the Others." Admittedly, he hadn't read a lot about the Long Night but what he had read told him that.

"The songs are nice and all," Ser Daemon answered. "But that's all they are, nice. They don't tell us what really happened. They don't tell us of who died or their names. They focus on the hero, leaving the rest to be shadow characters."

"It takes more than one person to truly make a change happen," Quentyn told him. He looked over at Jon. "What's that saying the Northmen have?"

"The Wall wasn't built in a day or by a person," he said.

Aegon remembered why he was here. "Would you all leave?" he asked, keeping his eyes on Jon. "I would like to talk to…my brother."

They all heard the tone in his voice. The Tarly boy looked at Jon with concern but left all the same with Quentyn and Daemon. When they were finally alone, Jon looked at him. "Is there something you need, my prince?" he asked.

The way he spoke, as a subordinate to a superior, made Aegon realize that he still didn't think of himself as a Targaryen. When the rest of the family thought they were making strides to welcoming him and making him a part of them, he still thought himself an outsider. Aegon didn't know if he should felt happy or sad at that. That questioning made him angrier. "I suppose you're happy about what's happened," he said.

His would-be brother looked at him with confusion. "Prince Aegon?"

"Don't pretend to be dull. You know full well what I'm talking about." He pointed an accusing finger at him. "This marriage with Rhaenys, you must be excited beyond belief about it."

Jon's eyes widened with realization. "Oh," he said, the word escaping his lips before he realized it. His face became a mask of neutrality. "Your Highness, I did not expect to be married to your sister—"

"But you wanted to, right?" Aegon asked, cutting him off. "You wanted to marry her. No, let's be realistic here. You wanted to fuck her."

He looked horrified. "Prince Aegon, that is your sister—"

"And supposedly yours too!" he cut the bastard off, "Or have you forgotten what the king has said? What the king has said must be the truth!" His voice was filled so much mockery, it was almost a wonder he didn't actually taste it. "He marries the two of you off, proclaiming it to heal the realm while he also knows that the two of you actually love each other! Meanwhile he keeps me in a betrothal to a woman I feel is going to drown by the time we're married and refuses to even see the benefits of letting me marry for love!"

He breathed a little heavily at the end, for he felt like he was using all of his energy to shout at the bastard. His breathing was the only that making noise in the room as they stared at each other. "Your Highness," Jon said, breaking the silence. "I did not ask for it."

"But you do love Rhaenys, don't you?"

"I…I…I don't know."

He stared at the bastard for the longest time. The anger bled out of him. "Sorry," he told Jon, truly meaning it. "I did not mean to take my frustrations with my father out on you."

Jon looked unsure, like he wanted to say something but stopped himself from doing so. Aegon waved at him, silently urging him to speak. He did. "Prince Aegon, if it's not Lady Margaery you love, who is it?"

"Mya," he said without hesitation. Jon didn't look surprised. "You already knew?"

"She told me. I don't think that she wants to marry you."

Anger boiled up at the insinuation. "How dare you say that?"

"Forgive me, your Highness. But I only speak of what I saw."

Aegon asked him with a voice full of scorn, "And what have you seen, hm?" He didn't say anything. It roused the anger even more. "You will not keep this from me when you have already said something. Speak!"

Jon was hesitant to speak but he speak he did. "She told me of how you want to marry her, my prince. When she did, I saw how uncomfortable she looked with the idea." He looked back at the table and the chairs. "Perhaps we should sit down? This does not feel like a conversation we should have on our feet."

The prince didn't know what kind of conversation it was. But the idea was good all the same. As he sat down, he did feel some of the anger he held boil down. But it hadn't vanished all together/ "What do you mean she looked uncomfortable?"

"Prince Aegon, have you ever considered what Mya feels about this situation?"

He opened his mouth but no sounds came out. He realized that Jon was right. For all his talk of loving Mya and wanting to marry her, she had never given him the same. She had always deflected his pursuits or pretended to ignore them. Whenever he tried to kiss her, she would avoid him or beg him to stop. He had never given them much thought. Perhaps he should've. "I haven't," he said. "If I loved her, I should have."

"Yes, your Highness."

"It's just…" He stopped himself from going any further. He didn't talk about how he felt for Mya. He just told everyone that he loved her and they ignored him. "She sees me for me, not as a prince or the heir to the Iron Throne. She looks at me and I know that she sees Aegon. She has a sensible head on her shoulders that refuses to allow me or Rhaenys to get too swelled with pride or ego. If she can help, she will."

"So her beauty isn't everything about it."

"No, of course not," he said, feeling a little insulted that Jon would even imply that. He wasn't some fool who fell in love with a girl just because she was a pretty face. He was the Crown Prince. He had to be better than that. But at the same time, denying that felt like an insult to Mya. "That's not to say she's not beautiful. She just doesn't flaunt it."

There had been plenty of ladies who did that at Riverrun, both daughters and mothers. The worse had been Tya Lannister and her mother. They were beautiful but they wielded it like a blunt weapon, shoving it in everyone's face. Margaery was more subtle in her beauty but it was still a weapon. Mya didn't use her beauty like they did. She didn't use it at all. Her inactions made her beauty more attractive to him.

Jon listened to everything he said. "It sounds like Mya would make a better friend than she would a lover," he remarked

Aegon thought differently. "I would rather have her be my wife. I know her. I barely know Margaery." And that was hardly his fault.

"…Prince Aegon, when Lord Eddard married Lady Catelyn, they were complete strangers to each other. But they built their lives together and in time, they loved each other."

He looked at his supposed brother. "Why are you telling me this?" He had seen how Lady Stark and Jon Dualfang avoided each other in Riverrun. That alone told him that they did not have a good relationship. But here he was, giving her praise. It was a little odd. And that made him suspicious.

"You are the same situation with Lady Margaery. There's not love now but there could be."

He immediately dismissed it out of hand. "If we married, she will drown me in roses. Have you seen how many Tyrells there are in King's Landing now?" And it wasn't even counting the men-at-arms and servants they brought with them. It felt like everywhere he looked he saw more gold roses than red dragons. "And what about Mya?" he asked Jon. "Even if we don't marry, I would want to do right by her."

"Then give what she's wants."

"What's that?"

"A name, an actual name," he said. "Do you know what I hoped for, back in Winterfell, even when I knew it would never happen?"

"No. What?"

"I hoped that my father would send a raven to the king, asking to legitimize me. I would daydream about how the king agreed and I would be granted the name Stark." He looked Aegon in the eye. "Would I be wrong to assume that she would like to have the name Baratheon?"

Something came to Aegon in that moment. He remembered Riverrun and the one time he held Mya in his arms. She had told him, "If I could ask one thing from the gods, it would be to make me a child of Stannis Baratheon instead of Robert." He couldn't speak for the gods, but perhaps there was another way for her to make it happen.

* * *

That night, he asked his family to join him for a dinner with both the Tyrells and the Baratheons. He sat at his father's side, across from both Jon and Rhaenys. He saw his would-be brother would look anywhere that wasn't his sister. His betrothed didn't sit with him but with her family. Her brother was glaring at Jon but he was being ignored. Aegon could see how only Jon had an inkling of what was going to happen next. The rest were clueless.

"King Rhaegar, has there been any news of my son at Riverrun?" asked Lord Mace. Tensions filled the air and a lot of eyes were being thrown at Jon.

Father shook his head. "I'm sorry, Lord Tyrell. There has been no news. Lord Varys's informants do not work that fast."

" _Of course they don't. It's only been a day,"_ Aegon thought to himself. The Spider might call them little birds but they were still human.

"Mace, I've told you not to ask foolish questions," Lady Olenna told her son.

He looked at her in shock. "Mother, I know you are worried just as much as I am!"

"Did I say that I wasn't? Do remember that Willas is under the custody of Robb Stark. If there is one thing I'm sure that green boy learned from his father, it was to be honorable, completely honorable."

Aegon looked at his parents. There was a spasm of anger across their faces at the mention of Lord Stark. _"He might not be as honorable as people think,"_ he mused, looking at Jon again.

"That is not what I am talking about, Mother!" Lord Mace told her. "I am concerned about how Prince Viserys told me that Willas and this…this…Greyjoy woman were becoming friendly!"

The whole table paused at that outburst. Aegon wondered if he heard that right. He had seen Willas Tyrell and Asha Greyjoy (he didn't know about any other Greyjoy woman) at Riverrun. They had spent some time talking and despite all the insults and veiled threats she threw at him, Asha did seem to like Willas.

"That is something to be worried about later, Mace. Now sit down," the Queen of Thorns told him one more time. "I am more interested in why we are here."

"That can be said for all but one of us, Lady Olenna," Mother told her.

Father turned his head. "Tell us, Aegon, why we are here."

" _The moment of truth,"_ Aegon thought to himself as he stood up from his chair. All eyes fell on him, even Mya. "I have thought about you said, Father, about how it is my duty to uphold the peace that Westeros has. And you are right."

"In what way?" he asked, obviously testing him.

He responded, "You are right in that I would not cast Westeros into chaos. I will do my duty. I will marry Lady Margaery Tyrell." He watched the Tyrells looked both relieved and satisfied at the same time. They must've thought that he had called this dinner to reject his betrothal. He glanced at Mya, standing behind Rhaenys. She didn't react.

"I am glad to hear that, my son. I—"

"Forgive me, Father, but I am not done." He steadied himself before he spoke again. This was it. "I will marry Lady Margaery, but not without some conditions."

The tabled stirred at that. The Tyrells were worried, Lord Stannis kept a blank face while his daughter was curious, and his family looked at him with curiosity. "What kind of conditions?" King Rhaegar asked him.

"Conditions that I believe you will be able to permit. I have one for you, one for Lord Baratheon, and two for Lady Margaery. With your permission, I will tell them."

He had no objection to it, spreading his hand out at the table. "Speak your condition, Aegon. What are they?"

"First, Lady Margaery." He looked to his betrothed. She smiled brightly and yet shyly at him. He didn't pay it any attention. "My first condition for you is this, my lady: when we marry, all the Tyrells and their household staffs who came with you to King's Landing shall leave for Highgarden."

"I see no problem with that condition, my prince," she told him, still wearing that smile. "Even though I will miss them, I am sure that my father and my brothers will be needed back in Highgarden."

"You mistake me, my lady. I was not talking about just your father or your brothers. All of your family, your mother, your grandmother, your cousins, your handmaidens, your servants, any and all who came to King's Landing with you will return to Highgarden." Recognition dawn upon her face and she looked at him with a growing look of horror. Her brother looked outraged at the idea. "You will have no need of them."

"You cannot be serious!" exclaimed Ser Loras.

"I am serious, ser. She will not be a Tyrell anymore once we are married. She'll be a Targaryen. There are plenty of people who will be able to support her here in the capital." He looked to his father. "King Rhaegar, the favor I ask of you is this: as a gift for my wedding, I want you to legitimize Mya Stone so she may have the name Baratheon."

This time, it was both Mya and Rhaenys who were stunned, his sister more so than her handmaiden. He could only tell that Mya was surprised by how her eyes widened. "And why should I grant this for her?" asked Father.

"She has served us faithfully for years, Father, and suffered insults for her parentage in silence. This is the least we can do for her." He looked at Mya's uncle. "Lord Stannis, I ask that you formally adopt Mya as your second daughter." Mya's eyes widened even more at that request. Lord Stannis did not say anything but his daughter was hopeful.

"And what if we refuse these conditions?" Lady Olenna asked him.

He looked at the Queen of Thorns. He had a feeling that she would speak up. He was ready for her. "If you refuse me these conditions, my lady, than I shall abandon my responsibilities and join the Night's Watch, leaving my sister to take the Iron Throne." Now it was his family's turned to look at him with shock and surprise. Jon looked the most horrified. Aegon knew why. If he did this and their marriage went through, Jon would be next in line to become king. It was something he obviously didn't want.

Lady Olenna didn't look that impressed. "I'm sure that your father won't let you run away like that, little boy."

He had thought of that too. "Then I will kill myself."

"Aegon!" said Mother, horrified. He ignored her. He kept his eyes on the Tyrell matriarch.

She did the same. She even laughed. "You say something like that you won't be able to kill yourself now, silly boy."

"There are many ways to get someone killed, Lady Olenna. The fact would remain the same: I would be gone, Rhaenys would sit the Iron Throne, and the Tyrells will have lost their chance at marrying into the royal family."

He looked at them all. "Allow me to be perfectly honest with you all: I've never wanted this marriage. I've told you all that countless times and you've ignored me, content to shove it down my throat. I will go through with this marriage but it will be on my terms and my terms alone."

"You would have me be taken away from all my family," said Margaery. "All, I've known."

"Yes," Aegon said bluntly. "That is what I want from you are to become my wife and a Targaryen. I want something else from you and that is my second favor."

"What else could you want from me?"

He looked right at her. "Promise me that you will never try to push your own agenda in court or for the realm. Never undermine me or stand against me. Do that and I promise you this: I will work beside you in ruling these kingdoms, I will look to you for help and advice, and I will love any child born to the both of us."

He fell silent, waiting for the response that was to come next. They all looked at him, trying to figure out if what he had said held any truth. He did not back down or change his words. He would not be moved. He glanced at Jon, who was doing his best to keep his eyes on the plate in front of him.

"I accept," said Lord Stannis, making all eyes fell on him. He did not move from his seat but he looked at them all. "I will accept Prince Aegon's condition. I hope that the king will see no reason to refuse the favor asked of him." He looked at King Rhaegar, his eyes not saying anything but there was a challengingly glint to them.

Aegon looked at his father, wondering what his reaction would be. The king looked at Lord Baratheon. "I find no objections, my lord. Prince Aegon has the right of it. Mya deserves something for recognition of her years of services. Legitimization is the least we can do."

Both turned their gaze to the Tyrells. Aegon watched them squirm and felt satisfied. _"Now it's time for them to feel uncomfortable."_ The same he had felt uncomfortable since they came to King's Landing.

Lady Olenna looked ready to say something but her son beat her to it. "We accept these conditions," he said.

"Father!" protested Ser Loras.

He looked hard at his son. "Would you deny your sister this chance, Loras? I made her a promise that I would see a crown rest on her head. If that means we must remove ourselves from her life, so be it."

"But—"

"No, my son," he cut him off. "This will happen." His voice was sorrowful but resolute.

A strange thought came to Aegon in that moment. _"What if Lord Mace isn't as stupid as he appears?"_ He was sure that the Tyrells would protest his conditions, even argue them. He had been prepared for them, just as he was prepared for the Queen of Thorns to lead the accusations. But he hadn't accounted for Lord Tyrell. He would have to watch that man more carefully now.

"Then we are in agreement," declared the king.

Mya put down the wine pitcher she held in her hands. "Your Grace," she said to Rhaegar, "If I may?"

He nodded once. "Yes, say what you wish, Mya."

She walked around the table. She approached Aegon. He wondered what she would do. It got his answer when she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear. He was too stunned to say anything back. All he could do was return the hug.

He didn't object when she broke the hug. She walked down to the Tyrells and stood right behind Margaery. She did not say anything. She just waited. Margaery tried to ignore her but it proved to be too much. "Yes?" she finally asked, turning around to look at her.

"What's my name?" asked Mya.

Margaery frowned a little. She probably didn't think that something like this would happen. "It's Mya," she said quickly.

"Mya what?" she pressed.

Aegon's bride-to-be looked a little ill. He wasn't ashamed to say that he got a little pleasure from seeing that looking on her face. She didn't want to say what Mya wanted to hear but Stannis's niece would not move from her spot, eyes bearing down on her. "Baratheon," Margaery finally grounded out, "Mya Baratheon."

Mya smiled genuinely. "Thank you, Lady Margaery. I am glad that you finally remembered my name." She walked away, ignoring the fuming rose and her brother. As she walked back to the pitcher, Aegon noticed how Stannis was looking at the Tyrells. He had the slightest of smirks on his lips as he stared right at Mace Tyrell and his mother.

It was odd to see such an expression on the Baratheon, but Aegon knew why he was smirking. _"He just had a small revenge for the siege of Storm's End."_ Well, he wasn't going to begrudge him that small satisfaction. After all, they had a dinner to enjoy.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

Sam's theory is something I personally ascribed to. I think that it was a group of people who ended the Long Night, not just one person. Once the threat was over, they would leave to go back home. There they would tell people of what happened. Give yourself time and the ego of a nation, suddenly all those other people fade away and your guy is the one who led the charge and ended the horror.

In case you were wondering, the ending was supposed to show that Mya is not a perfect person. If she was a better woman than Margaery, she would never have done that. Then again, it was the perfect attempt to rub her face in all the mockery she did over the years.

I've been reading all your reviews about where this story is going or not. All this fighting, name-calling, declarations and refutes, I can only say one thing to it all: feed me, I grow stronger from your conflict. This fighting is what spurs me on. So feed me!

And to my persistent guest reviewer, while I am glad that you enjoy Emergence of the Dragon, could you please stop putting reviews about it in this story? I know you're putting what story the review's for in the review but if you can't put it in the actual story, please wait for the next opportunity. It's why I've been removing your reviews. As for my updating that story, it has less of a priority than the three I'm already doing. I might've posted the story in June but I had been working on that thing for months.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	35. Chapter 35

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 35: Rhaenys

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: King's Landing)

Rhaenys was irritated. It seemed that Jon (it was hard to call him Daemon) was doing his best to avoid her. Whenever she went to go look for him, to talk to him, she found that he was busy. If she didn't know any better, she would've thought it was coincidental. But she did know better. He was avoiding her.

So she had to rely on secondhand information: Mya. They sat in her chambers, embroidering. Mya put hers down and rubbed her hands. "I didn't know that this was so tiring for the hands," she said.

"Almost makes you wish to hold the wine pitcher again?" Rhaenys asked her, smiling teasingly at her.

"Almost, but that just mean my arms ached instead."

She couldn't refute that, having seen her hold a wine pitcher many times. Truth be told, it was hard not to see her as still being Mya Stone, bastard of Robert Baratheon. But that wasn't the truth anymore. Now, she was Mya Baratheon, adopted daughter of Stannis. With that, she couldn't just be a servant anymore. She had to be a lady proper, which meant she had to learn what it meant to be a lady.

Rhaenys was happy to show her what that meant. She liked to think that the two of them were friends even if she had never broached the question to Mya (she was still afraid of that possible answer). But more than that, she felt like she owed Mya this. After serving her for so many years, and dealing with all that had been heaped on her shoulders, this was the least Rhaenys could do for her.

And this way, she could also get information on her soon-to-be husband. "How was Daemon this morning?" she asked. Even though she thought of him as Jon, she knew that she had to say his Targaryen name.

Mya rubbed her hands for a moment, taking up the embroidery again. "He was as he was in every morning," she said.

"That's not informative."

"It is the truth, Princess. I brought him breakfast and we talked about who was in the Red Keep today."

"He didn't ask about Robb Stark or our uncle?" The threat of the Northern army at Riverrun loomed over at the Red Keep. She was certain that they would march any day now.

She shook her head. "No."

The princess could've sighed in irritation. "Has he left his rooms?"

"No," Mya told her.

"Not even to train those two boys?" It was one of the few things that could get him out of there, aside from preying in the godswood.

"Not yet, your Highness."

She frowned, but not about Jon. "Mya, you don't need to call me that anymore."

Mya paused in what she was doing. "Call you what, your Highness?" she asked.

"That," she said, gesturing, "The honorific. Between the two of us, you can call me Rhaenys."

The newly made Baratheon considered those words. "You've never said I could speak so informally before. Is this because of my new status?" she asked. There was nothing in her voice to show that she was searching or judging.

Even so, Rhaenys had a hard time looking directly into those eyes. Not for the first time she saw just how much of a Baratheon she really was. What was it about those eyes that she couldn't look at them? It seemed that whenever Mya was in a mood or wanted to know something, those blue eyes held an intensity inside them that never wavered. If her father had that same kind of intensity in his eyes, it was no wonder why men had feared to fight Robert Baratheon (or why it women couldn't resist him).

Mya didn't stop looking but didn't say anything. She just waited in silence. Rhaenys couldn't take the silence anymore and answered her. "Yes, it is," she admitted. "I always thought of you as a friend, Mya. But decorum insists that I had you address me properly. Now that you're legitimized, decorum can be relaxed a little bit." If it wasn't, that would be something she would fight for. Mya deserved that much.

"Very well…Rhaenys," her friend said. "You'll have to forgive me if it takes me some times to get used to being that informal."

She couldn't help but chuckle at that. "I won't hold it against you, Mya." They smiled at each other, taking pleasure in the humor of the moment. But the moment passed and Rhaenys focused back on the matter at hand. "Tell me, is there any way I could talk to Daemon?" The way she saw it, they couldn't stay away from each other. They needed to talk to each other.

Mya thought about the question. "Have you tried talking to him?"

"A few times with others around," she answered. "But only once alone."

"Only once?" her friend repeated, frowning. "Since we've come back from Riverrun?"

"Yes."

Mya looked at her with a surprised look. "Rhaenys, I would've thought you would've talked to him a lot more than that."

She looked back her drolly. "It's a bit hard to do when he's done his best to not come out of his rooms."

"When has that stopped you?"

It shouldn't have. But she couldn't help but feel there would be some…awkwardness between them. She wanted to talk to Jon, to let him lower the walls that came up after his arrival in the Red Keep. She just didn't know what to say to him. The last time she had done that, she had felt uncertain of what to talk about and left quickly.

"Do you know what to say, Mya?"

Mya paused in her work and considered the question. It didn't take her long to say, "Just talk to him honestly, Rhaenys. Your…brother is not used to King's Landing. He has no use for the usual plays and ploys of the court."

That was probably true but she also heard the hesitation. She looked at her. "You doubt?" She didn't need to ask the rest of the question.

She didn't answer immediately. She looked around the room, as if to find any possible person watching them. "Do I have your permission to speak honestly and plainly, your Highness?"

"Mya, we talked about the honorific?" She didn't say anything back to that. Rhaenys sighed slightly and said, "Yes, you have my permission."

"Without fear of reprisal from you or any of the royal family?" she asked.

The princess paused. The last time her friend had said those kinds of words, she had unleashed years of resentment upon her cousins and the Tyrells. Whatever she meant to say next must be treated seriously. She wanted to know what she had to say but there was the chance she wouldn't like what she heard. Still, Mya was concerned enough to ask for permission, twice. "You are safe, Mya."

She nodded in gratitude and said, "I doubt."

"…Why is that?"

She didn't answer right away, thinking about what she could say. "It almost seems too perfect."

"Too perfect?" repeated Rhaenys.

"Yes. No one truly knows who Jon Snow's mother is."

"My father claims he is Lyanna's." When she thought about it, the details made sense, almost. But there was that little doubt that made her stop from completely believing it.

"He's the king. He could claim anything and the highborn and smallfolk would believe him."

Rhaenys knew that wouldn't be completely true. They might publically believe him but they would say something else in private. "Perhaps, but you must agree that the facts of Daemon's birth do match to what the king has declared."

Mya was unconvinced. "The only one who I believe can say what happened and everyone will take it as truth is Lord Stark."

She believed the same. The thing was, Lord Stark had not left Winterfell in the longest time. Perhaps this was why he did not. If he had come to Riverrun, the matter would've certainly come up. "Do you think he would come to our wedding?" If he did, he could answer the question everyone wanted answered.

"I think it's more likely we're to see his son before him."

Again, her mind went to Robb Stark. She had met him a few times at Riverrun but didn't think much of him, focused more on Jon. Now, she wished that she had talked to him more. She was sure that Aegon was the same. If they had talked to him more, they could get into his mind better. But they hadn't done that and now, they were wondering what he would do next.

But there was one person she knew in King's Landing who did know Robb Stark. It was why after she was done with Mya, she went to her brother's chambers. Ser Oswell stood guard outside the door. "Princess," he greeted her.

"Ser Oswell," she replied. "Is he in?"

"Yes, but I believe he's about to go to the godswood."

She went through the door before Jon could come out. She found him coming out of the bed chamber. He saw her and was surprised. "Princess?" he asked.

Rhaenys had seen him plenty of times but each time she was stunned by how handsome he was. He might be a Targaryen but his looks were fully Stark and it made him more handsome. His grey eyes looked at her with a curiosity. His hair framed his face even as it was kept back from it. The ends looked like they were beginning to curl.

Her lust burned inside her. How she wanted to close that door and keep him inside these rooms. _"Patience, Rhaenys,"_ she told herself. It would happen soon enough. With each passing day, their wedding came closer. "Hello, Daemon."

He frowned at that name. "That's not my name," he told her.

She knew that but still, there were eyes and ears throughout the Red Keep, even in his rooms. Appearances had to be kept. "Come now, we both know it is."

"No, it is not." His eyes began to harden. He was about to become stubborn.

She stepped closer to him, close enough to touch him, to smell him. He smelled of trees. It probably came from all the time he spent in the godswood. She watched his eyes lose their hardness, replaced by surprise and desire. He wanted her, she could see it. "Let's not talk about it," she told him, her voice lowering to a near whisper.

He gulped in air. He must really be nervous. "What is it you want?" he asked, the words almost sounding like he was forcing them through his mouth.

She wanted a lot of things from him. She wanted to feel the entirety of him against her body, his lips on hers. Instead of pursuing those, she asked him, "Would you walk with me?"

"To where?" he asked.

She was tempted to say anywhere, just so she could spend actual time with him. But that would never do. As a princess, she must always have a purpose and a direction. "A walk around our gardens should do wonders for us both. Perhaps we should even attend the godswood?" She held out her hand to him.

He looked at the offered hand as if it was a poisonous snake. She felt a little insulted that he would look at her so but said nothing. He did take it eventually, something that made her smile brightly. They walked out of the room, getting the attention of Ser Oswell. "Well, this is new," he remarked, "The prince leaving his room with someone. Are we perhaps going somewhere new?"

"The gardens, ser," Rhaenys told him politely. "Would you like to join us?"

"No, I'll stay behind and watch." He grinned good-naturally and also suggestively. "I'm sure that whatever you two want to do should be kept between the two of you."

"Thank you, ser," she replied. She didn't say anything else to him. He would stand behind and watch silently, just as the Kingsguard were to do.

Even though it was the man who was supposed to lead, Rhaenys knew that Jon did not know his way around the Red Keep. So she led him. The garden smelt lovely as they entered. She always felt comforted whenever she came here. "What do you think?" she asked Jon.

"It's very beautiful," he told her, looking at her instead of the gardens.

She smiled, letting it fill her entire face. She saw how it affected him. He tore his gaze away and focused on the garden. She was a little hurt but she didn't let it stop her. "I'm glad."

"Princess—"

She frowned, squeezing his arm just enough to get his attention. "None of that," she said insistently. "You do not need to be so formal."

He looked at her, that same stubbornness starting to show again. "How would you have me address you?"

"Considering that we are married, I would have you call me by my name. If that is not enough for you, use the fact that we are family to call me so." His face held some horror but it was squashed beneath the confusion and the desire. He was still horrified at the idea of wedding but that horror was slowly dying. She leaned in closer. "Say my name, Daemon, please."

"…Rhaenys," he said. As he said the name, she saw that he enjoyed it.

She smiled at him. "Thank you."

As they continued through the garden, they heard the sounds of someone else walking through it too. "Who's that?" Jon asked, looking forward. The garden paths intersected up ahead.

The answer came when they both saw Aegon and Margaery walking together, Ser Barristan close behind. Rhaenys became intrigued and made Jon stop. She wanted to see what this would be. This wasn't the first time that Aegon had taken his betrothal on a stroll through the gardens but it would be the first time that both of them looked the same. Her brother didn't look uncomfortable being Margaery's presence and Margaery didn't look as if she had just claimed a great victory over everyone else.

In fact, both of them looked as if they were in serious discussion with each other. She couldn't hear what they were saying but she could tell that Aegon wasn't trying to be stiff in order to drive her away and Margaery wasn't trying to be witty in order to charm him. It made her all the more curious. "What do you think they're doing?" she asked Jon.

He looked that way too but only briefly. "I would say that they are getting to know each other. If they are to be married, they should have that much at least."

That rang true in her mind. And it was past time that Aegon and his betrothed actually talked to each other. When he and Margaery passed, they continued. She led him to her little spot in the gardens while Ser Oswell stood guard outside it. It was a simply a bench beneath the shade of trees. In front of the bench was a sea of flowers. It was a place where she had played for hours on end while her parents sat on the bench, watching her.

To her surprise, there was already someone there. "Balerion, there you are!" she exclaimed, swooping down on the snoozing cat. She picked him and held him against her chest. "I was wondering why you left the room."

She looked back at Jon, staring at her puzzled. "You know this cat?" he asked her.

"Of course I do. He's my cat."

"Oh, I see."

She brought the two of them closer together. Balerion looked up at Jon with curiosity and hostility. He was judging him as a threat. Rhaenys didn't pay any attention to it. Her cat did it with everyone who wasn't her, even her family. "Would you like to pet him?" she asked Jon. Balerion growled warningly at the suggestion, the sound rumbling up from his throat.

"…Perhaps it's best that I don't," Jon told her. "He seems has to have a clear opinion about me."

She laughed lightly at that. "He's always like that." She sat down on the bench. Jon remained standing. She gave him a pointed look and glanced down at the spot next to her. He did and she leaned in closet to him. Feeling his weight as a support, she liked the feeling. He didn't say it but she knew that Jon the same way. Sitting together with him, in this little haven, it felt right.

"Rhaenys," Jon said softly, almost as if he didn't want to break the silence they had, "What is it you want to talk about?"

She frowned slightly. He reminded her of why she had gone to talk to him. It was a feeling that she wished he hadn't brought up. But now that he had, they must talk about it. "Robb Stark," she said.

"What about him?"

"How well do you know him?"

She expected him to say well enough since they had thought each other as brothers. But that's not what he said. "Why do you ask?"

She was tempted to lie, call it idle curiosity, wanting to know about his life in Winterfell. But if he figured out the lie and called her on it, it would be worse. "I want to know about him."

"Why?"

"He's coming this way, with an army. You know him best."

He froze in his place, something she could feel but stiff he became. "You want me to tell you about what he might do."

"Yes."

That answer made him stand up away from her. The sudden loss of support almost made her fall on her face. It was only years learning of how to hold her posture that stopped her from falling completely. Jon looked as if he wanted to walk from her, from that place. But he stayed there. He still looked angry. "Do you think I would truly tell you?" he asked.

Rhaenys placed Balerion down on the bench and stood up. "I had a small hope," she told Jon honestly.

He looked even more anger. But it wasn't the burning anger she would see in any of her family. Rather, he seemed to become colder, almost ice-like. "Why?" he demanded. "Were you hoping that some supposed familial tie would compel me to answer?"

"He marches against us."

'No, he marches against you."

She was hurt. She knew that he distanced himself from her and the Targaryens because he thought that was happening to him was wrong, on both accounts. But she did not let that stop her. "He marches against the Iron Throne and the family that holds it. You are a part of that family, Daemon."

He could've become a statue in that moment. "My name is Jon Snow. My father is Lord Eddard Stark. I don't know who my mother is."

He had said that many times before, whenever someone tried to make him see that was what he was. The most insistent was not the king (although he had tried to convince him many times) but rather the queen. Rhaenys had seen her mother try to make Jon see that he was a Targaryen many times but all he said were that same phrase again and again.

She stepped closer to him and looked him in the eyes. "It doesn't matter what you claim to be," she told him, taking another step. "Our father, the king, has declared you to be his son. For history, you will be known as Prince Daemon Targaryen, son of King Rhaegar." She took another step and smiled. "And hopefully husband to Princess Rhaenys Targaryen." He opened his mouth to speak but she wasn't done. "I didn't want to ask you about Robb, but if it's the only to make sure that this war will end with as little bloodshed as possible, I will. What you could tell me and Father will possibly help us end the fighting before it ends."

"I won't."

She knew that, knew that it was a small hope that he would talk. "Then let us forget about Robb Stark," she told him. "Let's talk about us."

He looked at her questioningly. "What about us?"

She stepped so close to him, she could reach out and touch him. "Are you still so afraid of what will happen to us? That we are to be married?" She reached out and took his hand in hers. Before he could say anything in protest, she placed it over her heart. His face went bright red at the contact. She looked him in the eye and reached for his heart.

He flinched at her contact but he did not move. They stood there, hands on hearts. She felt the heartbeat beneath her hand. It thumped and thumped, making her hand vibrate with each pulse. She knew he could feel the same with her heart. He was the one who pulled his hand away and stepped back. "Why did you do that?" he asked.

She didn't know why. "It just seemed right," she said honestly. "I wanted to feel your heartbeat." She looked at him. "Did it feel so wrong to feel my heart?" she asked him.

"…No," he admitted. "It, it felt good." He sounded ashamed at admitting that.

"Daemon," she started only to stop. She started again, "Jon, why are you so afraid of marrying me?"

"I'm not afraid."

"Aren't you? You've not talked to me unless I've make you. You avoid me as if I have greyscale. I love you. You love me. What's wrong with that?"

He looked her with eyes of iron stubbornness. "We already discussed this."

"No, we didn't. You shut yourself off and refused to listen what it could mean for the both of us. You say that's it is wrong for us to be married. What's wrong with it? You love me and I love you. Do you deny it?"

She watched him struggle with himself. It was a battle that could be clearly seen on his face. "No," he finally said. "I don't deny it. I can't deny it."

"Well, here I am. I'm to be yours and you're to be mine. Why would you try to refuse it?"

"It would mean that the lie the king says is the truth. I…" He fell silent stopping himself from saying whatever it was he wanted to say.

She looked him in the eyes. The iron in them was trembling, weakening. "You what?" she asked him.

"…All I wanted was to be a Stark," he said in practically a whisper. "It has been my dream and hope my entire life. I wanted to be known as Jon Stark, no one else."

He meant all the words he said. There was only one thing she could do in reply. She held him tight and kissed him. It was brief but he responded in kind. "I don't care what your name could be," she told him, looking right in the eyes. "You could be a Snow, a Stark, or a Targaryen. Your name could be Daemon or Jon and I wouldn't care. All I care about is having you with me for the rest of my life. Tell me you want it otherwise. Tell me, and I'll go to our father. I'll tell him that this marriage shouldn't happen, but only if you tell me that you don't this."

Her love looked like he was in pain because of the indecision he faced. She wanted to help but it was his decision to face alone. "…I can't say it," he told her a hoarse whisper. "I can't say I want it differently."

Rhaenys knew what that meant. He loved her. In spite of everything that he felt was wrong about this, he loved her. It warmed her heart. She smiled and hugged him again. His hands pulled her in tight. Together they stood there. It felt like it was them against the world. "I won't ask you of Robb again," she told him, whispering it against his chest.

"Thank you," he whispered back. "I can't betray him, not like that."

And she wouldn't hurt him like that. But there was something that didn't set right with her. "Jon, if you have a chance, just the slightest chance, to go back north, would you take it? Or would you stay here, with me?"

For the longest second, he didn't say anything. "We both know the answer to that," he finally said.

It planted a seed of doubt in her. She knew her answer but she didn't know his. She squashed that seed before it could grow. _"Don't think about it,"_ she told herself. _"He's here, in your arms, all but saying that he loves you. Just take it."_ And she did. What matter was he was there, with her. It was what she wanted.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

You might consider this to be a filler piece and I'd be almost tempted to agree. This started out much different than what I had thought about. Some people think that this story is starting to bog down. I guess it's time to pick up the pace again.

Would anyone else find it interesting for Balerion the cat and Ghost to meet? I was almost tempted to make sure the wolf went to King's Landing just for that. The wolf has the height and power, the cat has the age, experience, and doesn't like anybody. That would've been fun.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	36. Chapter 36

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 36: Elia

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: King's Landing)

Elia awoke and did not see Lyanna's shade in the bed next to her. For the first time, she wasn't saddened by that. No, today, she was joyful. Today was the day Rhaenys and Daemon would finally marry. Today, Lyanna's son would come back to them fully.

As she had hoped, over the month he had been with them, Daemon thawed. She had seen him walk often with Rhaenys and Daenerys too. He had also sparred with his brother and talked to him too. But what Elia felt was the greatest thing was that Daemon was on good terms with his father. She had seen them talking to each other and never once did it look like a king speaking to his subject. It had progressed from an unsure child talking to an adult to something more, something warmer.

The only thing that Daemon had held onto was that his name was Jon. Elia knew that he held onto it like it was a precious thing. In a way, she could see how it was for him. She could only hope that in time, he would forget that name. She would always call him Daemon. It was the name his parents all agreed on.

She dressed for the day and joined her husband for breakfast. "Good morning, Elia," Rhaegar said when she came into his chambers.

"Good morning, Rhaegar," she said back, greeting him with a kiss. Breakfast had been laid for two. The servants had long since known that the queen ate breakfast with the king. She had heard some wonder why they don't share the same bed if they share breakfast. The truth was the thought had come to them both but they couldn't. It always felt like someone was missing from their bed when they did that.

"Have you seen Rhaenys yet?" he asked her as she sat down.

She shook her head. "No, not yet," she said as she reached for a blood orange. "I will after this. She was nervous last night."

He smiled. "As nervous as you were at our wedding, I'm sure."

She smiled back at him. She was hardly nervous at their wedding. If anything, he had been the one more nervous. "Has Aegon recovered from last night's revelries?" Her son had taken his brother for a night of drinking, something of a sendoff for Daemon. It was apparently since they all came back quite drunk.

"He has. But he has been complaining about a headache from all the drinking he did." He paused in cutting his egg. "Varys came with news from the Riverlands."

She paused too. For an entire month they had waited for Robb Stark to come marching down to King's Landing. But even for an army that he commanded, he moved slowly. The lords and ladies of the court mocked the boy for his pace, calling him the Slow Wolf. But both Rhaegar and Elia had a feeling that there was a plan. They didn't know what it was but all they could do was prepare.

"What is the news?" she asked him.

He smiled. When he smiled, she knew that it wasn't grim news. "The Stark boy left his rear unguarded. Lord Lannister was able to march on Riverrun. Edmure Tully surrendered the hostages without the need for a siege."

"Then he's lost his threat against the other houses." It meant they would be able to deploy their forces alongside the crown's army. This seemingly one-sided war suddenly turned its tables, all thanks to a foolish mistake. "He's surrounded."

Rhaegar nodded. "Not only that, but he's turned around and rushing back to Riverrun. If he makes the same mistake again, we will have him."

"It will be another victory at the Trident." He fell silent at that. Elia knew why. Her husband never talked about the Battle of the Trident. She had never known what happened that day between him and Robert Baratheon. It forced her to relay on the words of other people. She had heard some say that he had faced the rebel stag in combat and slew him. But others, more critical of the king, said that he held back when Robert went looking for him and allowed archers to shoot him down.

She didn't know what to make of these tales so she assumed that somehow both had happened. How it happened, she didn't know. She had never asked him. If he wished to keep it private, she respected his decision. "I'm sorry," she told him. "That was a wrong comparison."

He shook his head. "No," he said, "that's not it. I don't relish the idea of hunting down boys who thought they knew war."

Elia understood him. It sounded distasteful to her too. "What will do you with them once they are captured?"

His answer was swift. "If they bend the knee, I will forgive them. I can understand where they stand. They came for their friend, thinking that he had been held prisoner. I cannot fault them for that."

They finished breakfast and went their separate ways. They would meet again at the Great Sept for the wedding ceremony. Right now, Elia had to go make sure her daughter wasn't going around in a tizzy. She reached Rhaenys's chambers and knocked on the door. "Who is it?" her daughter called out.

"It's Mother, Rhaenys. I'm coming in." She opened the door and walked in. Balerion the cat snoozed in the sun's light but she wasn't concerned about that. Her daughter wore a dress that was as white as a Dornish beach, leaving her shoulders bare except for two straps. Seamstresses worked on her, finishing the last touches. But it was clear about one thing. "You're beautiful," she told her daughter.

"Of course she is," Rhaella said from where she sat close to the window. She watched with happiness and pride. "She is a Targaryen."

"People who first see me wouldn't say that, Grandmother," Rhaenys told her.

She waved it off. "Then they are fools. Yes, you have your mother's skin and her hair. Those are the obvious facts. But if someone were to look more closely at you, they would see the dragon in you. When I look you, dearest child, I see my mother's eyes, my father's gentle smile, and my grandmother's face. It is the same with Daemon. Even before I heard the tale of his birth, one look at him and I knew he was a dragon."

"How?" she asked. One of the seamstresses threaded a ribbon of a different orange through the skirts of her dress. It was bright and gleamed when light shined on it. It made the dress more attentive to the eye.

"I looked at his face and knew that I had seen it before, on my grandfather. Oh, Daemon might have the same coloring and long face of the Starks, but he has Aegon V's face."

She looked over at her mother. "Is everything ready, Mother?" she asked. There was an edge to her voice. It almost sounded impatient but there was a nervousness to it as well.

Elia smiled at her. "It is, Rhaenys. Do you want this day to end so quickly?" she asked with a slight smile.

"Well, yes and no. I'm excited but also nervous."

That sounded so familiar. "Don't worry. I felt the same way when I married your father. By the end of the day, I was happy that the day was done but I had wished the night would have gone forever."

"Mother!" she said, her cheeks going red.

"Did I say anything that was not true?"

"I would say that Daemon will know what to do at the end of the night," Rhaella remarked, "but I think it would be safe to say that we've all heard of his behavior on the matter."

Rhaenys turned those red cheeks on her. "Grandmother, you make it sound like he has does something scandalous." Elia smiled at that. It wasn't that Daemon chased skirts. Everyone who met him was astounded by how chaste he was. Of course when she heard about how he was given a whore for free and he declined, she almost laughed.

"Do you have my maiden cloak?" she asked her daughter. It was the same cloak to her wedding.

She nodded and gesture to the table. "It's there."

Elia looked to the table and saw something else there too. It was a second cloak, one she hadn't seen before. She saw a white wolf on a plane of grey, nestled within a grove of winter roses. "What's this?" she asked.

Her daughter looked at it and recognized it. "Oh, I was working on that before you gave me your cloak."

"Who is it for?"

She hesitated for a moment. "Daemon," she answered. "I thought that since, he was coming back to our family, it would be right for him to shed his cloak for a new one." She looked at her mother and grandmother. "Seems a bit silly, doesn't it?"

Elia thought differently. "Why should it be silly?"

"Mother, the groom does not shed his cloak. He gives his bride his own."

That may be, but her daughter was no dullard. "True, but what you said is also true, Rhaenys. You are right. There should be a way for us to tell the Seven Kingdoms just who your brother truly is." She looked at the cloak again. "This seems to be the perfect way to do it."

"The Faith will object," Rhaella said. "They don't like it when people change what is known. But," she added, "I will talk to the High Septon. I'm sure he will be able to understand."

Rhaenys smiled at her. "Thank you, Grandmother. Has there been any word of the Starks coming to the wedding?" The air stilled around them but they didn't let that stop them.

Elia shook her head. "No, they're not coming."

"I see. I hoped that Daemon could have some comfort from seeing them today."

She understood what her daughter wanted. Having one's family at a wedding was important. But no one would want the Starks at this wedding, not after Robb Stark had done to their heirs. Besides, it would be too late.

She left once she was sure that her daughter was calm. The rest of the morning was spent ensuring that the wedding feast would be ready, the guests would sit in their proper places, and the weddings gifts were ready to be given. She dealt with those and an amount of other tiny details, right alongside Rhaegar.

It wasn't until midday started to pass, close to the wedding that she went to Daemon's chambers. Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell stood outside his door. "Your Grace," said Ser Arthur.

"Ser Arthur, Ser Oswell," she said to them both. "Is Daemon inside?"

"He hasn't left since he got back last night."

Oswell laughed. "I would be surprised if he had, considering how he, Prince Quentyn, and that Tarly came back over the drawbridge last night. They had to hold each other to stay up and be ushered by Ser Daemon Sand."

"Oh dear," Elia said, concerned. "I do hope that Daemon is alright. It is his wedding day. It wouldn't do to not have the groom be there."

"He'll be fine, your Grace," Arthur assured her. "After working on that little song of his this past month, I'm sure he wants to sing it perfectly tonight." He smiled and she smiled with him. Rhaenys had convinced Daemon to sing a song he had worked on for years now at the wedding feast. She had never heard him sing but she had heard Rhaenys describe his singing. She was interested to hear, to hear just how much he was like his father.

"May I go in?"

"Of course, your Grace," Oswell said, putting a hand on the door. "Just be gentle with him."

He pushed the door open and she walked in. The room was empty, as she thought it might be. She saw some parchment on the table. She looked over and saw it was a song, the one Daemon had been writing. She smiled. She looked forward to hearing it.

"Daemon?" she called out, heading for the bedroom door. She knocked on it but there was no answer. "Daemon, are you in there?" There was still no response. "Daemon, you can't sleep the day away. It's your wedding. I'm coming in." She opened the door and walked inside.

There was a lump in the bed, big enough to be man-size. It confirmed what she thought. _"Gods be good, just how much did he drink last night?"_ she asked herself. If he was still asleep, he would wake up hungover and that would not do. "Daemon, you must wake up. You would not want to keep everyone waiting."

There was still no response. She sighed and reached down, pulling back the blankets. She dropped them as she stared at the bed in surprise. The lump turned out to be a mound of pillows. Daemon wasn't in the bed. She turned and quickly checked the rest of the chambers but there was no sign of him, anywhere.

" _Where is he?"_ she asked, trying not to panic. "Ser Arthur! Ser Oswell!" she called out to them. They came quickly, their hands on their swords. "Are you sure that no one came in or out of these rooms the last night?"

"Of course, your Grace," Arthur told her, sounding a little confused.

"Then where is Daemon?"

They looked at each other, confused. "Your Grace?" asked Oswell.

"Search the room, sers. He's isn't here!"

They did as they were told and found the same thing she did. Daemon was gone. "How can this be?" Oswell demanded.

Elia was furious. It matched Arthur's own expression. "How do you think this happened, Oswell?" he asked his brother knight. "There must be a secret passage in this room somewhere."

It had to be true and the queen cursed Maegor the Cruel for building the Red Keep so. Why were there so many tunnels and secret passages in this place? "Send for more men and find it," she told the both of them.

"Yes, your Grace," Arthur replied. He paused and then asked, "What about the wedding?"

She had almost forgotten about that. It was soon upon them. "I will delay it if I can. Find Daemon," she told them once more.

Ser Oswell went for the door. "I shall tell the king."

"No," Elia said instantly. "I will tell him." She left through the door before they could object.

* * *

The wedding ended being canceled outright. She was sure that it was confusing to all the people who had come to King's Landing. But they had no choice in the matter. Daemon was still missing. The men who searched his room found out how he was able to disappear. The center stone of the parlor room could be pulled up and reveal a spiraling staircase. Men had been sent down into to find where it would go.

The afternoon sun peered through the Small Council chambers when Ser Gerold found the royal family there. He came forward, passing a look off at the Hound standing at the wall behind Rhaella and Daenerys, and bent the knee. "King Rhaegar, I come with a report," he said.

Everyone sat a little straighter in their seats at that. Elia looked over at her daughter. Rhaenys was doing her best to remain in control of herself but she could see the confusion and sadness in her eyes. She was still wearing her wedding dress but held her cat in her lap. "Report, Lord Commander," Rhaegar commanded the Kingsguard. Jon Connington, sat close by.

"The passageway goes deep, my king, down to the dungeons," he began.

That wasn't what Elia wanted to hear. "Where does it go?" she demanded.

"It divided into two tunnels. One has led out to the city itself, close to the Dragon gate."

"The other?" asked Rhaegar.

"To a beachhead underneath the Keep's walls, it's unseen from above."

"Is it big enough to hold a ship out of sight of the walls?"

He shook his head. "No. It is barely big enough to row a boat through."

That wasn't comforting enough. Elia knew it and so did her husband. "Thank you, Ser Gerold. Continue your search," the king commanded.

The White Bull bowed his head and left the chambers. As soon as the door closed, Elia looked at her husband. "Do you think he was taken through the city or to a ship?" she asked.

"The city," he replied, sounding certain. "With all the people coming into the city, no one would notice a few people going out."

"But why?" asked the Hand of the King. "Why would he leave?" He frowned at the table.

Aegon looked at him. "Lord Connington, you're assuming that our brother left willingly. He could've been kidnapped."

Elia turned her attention to the Hand. He had never liked her and she considered him to be glory-hungry and reckless. But that had been when they were younger. Now, he was an able Hand, always diligent and tireless in his work. He still didn't like her and it was clearly obvious to all that he didn't think highly of Daemon either.

He looked at her son. "My prince, it is plausible that…Prince Daemon was kidnapped. But I believe it is far more likely that he ran."

"But why?" asked Aegon.

"He wanted to go home," Rhaenys said quietly. All eyes turned to her. She was still stroking Balerion. "I asked him once if he had the chance to leave if he would stay or go. He told me that we both knew the answer." A bitter smile crossed her lips. "I guess we do now."

"No," said her father. "I do not believe that. Daemon was accepting us as his family. You saw it, Rhaenys, and you did too, Aegon. He was not so cold to us all, so distant. If he truly had wanted to leave, why would he wait until his wedding day to do it?"

Elia remembered their discussion over breakfast about Robb Stark. They had all been concerned there was some plan he had. What if this was it? "How close was Robb Stark to King's Landing before he could have known of Riverrun's surrender?"

Connington answered her. "He would've been at Antlers."

"What are you thinking, Elia?" Rhaella asked her.

She looked at her and then to the king and the Hand. "What if Robb Stark had been moving slowly on purpose? What if he had been doing it to lull us into a false sense of waiting? What if he's not turned around to go back to Riverrun, but to Winterfell?"

She watched as looks of realization appeared on all their eyes. "Could it really have happened so?" her son asked. "What about the other passage? He could've rowed to a ship."

"What ship would take him?" Rhaella asked him. "All who came to King's Landing knew him to be Daemon Targaryen. To take him away would invite a death sentence upon their heads."

"She's right," Elia agreed. "Robb Stark got close to King's Landing to slip men in and take Daemon. They're riding back to Winterfell now." They were going to lose Daemon again. She couldn't let that happen. She wasn't going to lose Lyanna's son once more.

She looked at Rhaegar and saw he felt the same. "Lord Connington, send word to our forces. We must go after the wolves—"

A roar shook the chamber they sat in, sending them to their feet. It was the sound of a beast they had never heard before. It rattled into their bones and made their hearts lurched. When the roar died away, they heard screams instead. "What was that?" Dany asked, looking at the door.

"I don't know, but it sounded…big," Aegon told her.

The door to the chamber burst open when Ser Lewyn came running in. Ser Jaime was right behind him. Both looked terrified and in awe. "You-your grace," said a breathless Jaime. "You, you need to come outside."

Rhaegar looked at him. "What is it, Ser Jaime?"

"Dr-dra-dra—"

Elia's uncle finished what he couldn't say. "It's a dragon," Lewyn told them. "A fully grown dragon is in the outer yard!"

A pin could've dropped in the silence that followed. It would've been like a thunderstorm. "A dragon?" whispered a stunned Rhaella. "This is not a good jape, sers."

"We're not japing," Ser Jaime told her. He sounded completely serious.

It couldn't be true but it was too ludicrous for them to say no. They all left the chambers and walked quickly to the outer yard. But as they stepped outside, they all came to a stop. Elia didn't have to look at her family to see their shocked faces. She had one too. "This…this is not possible," she breathed out.

"It must be," Rhaegar told her.

"Am I dreaming?" asked Aegon.

Rhaenys barely shook her head. "No, brother, you're not dreaming."

Neither was Elia. Like the Kingsguard had said, there was a dragon in the yard. But to say that would be like say that the Red Keep rested at the edge of the Blackwater Bay. It would not fully describe the idea. The yard could barely hold the dragon. It swung its head around, looking for something. But what, she didn't know.

"Oh, oh my," said Daenerys suddenly. The dragon swung its head to look to her, inching it close until it could smell her. But she was not afraid. "It's you, isn't it?"

She reached out her hand. "Dany!" shouted Aegon. He reached out to pull her away.

She looked at him with a puzzled look. "Why would you do that? She knows me."

He put down his hand but eyed the dragon cautiously. "Knows you? How could you know a dragon?"

"I didn't know her as a dragon but as the wolf lady."

" _Wolf lady?"_ thought Elia. What could she mean by that? The queen knew that Daenerys saw ghosts around the Red Keep but she never spoke about them to the living, not unless she was pressed. And since everyone already found her to be a bit odd, they tried not to ask about who she saw. So she didn't know about any kind of wolf lady. The only wolf lady Elia knew was…

She froze as she looked at the dragon once more. She saw how blue its scales were, just like the egg she and Rhaegar had gifted to their love. But those eyes, they weren't blue. They were grey, the grey of a fine mist. She knew those eyes. They belonged on the woman she loved. "Lyanna?" she dared to ask.

"What?" said Rhaegar. He looked at her just as the dragon did.

She looked at her goodsister. "Is it her, Dany? Is it Lyanna?"

Dany nodded. "It is her, although I've never seen her like this."

She didn't care about that. She thought that Lyanna had died. But if this was her, truly her…there was a chance to say things that needed to be said. "Lyanna, it's Elia," she said, reaching out to touch her. "It's Elia and Rhaegar. We miss—"

The dragon bared its teeth and snarled at her. Its snarl emerged from the depth of its stomach and washed over her. Fear settled into her and made her take a step back. Rhaegar stepped towards them both and the dragon turned the snarl at him. Elia was stunned. She could hear hatred and anger in that snarl. If it was Lyanna in there, she wouldn't hesitate to kill them. Why?

The snarl died away as the dragon turned from them. It did not snarl at Aegon or Rhaenys but it did stare at them with hostility, the same with Rhaella. The only one who didn't receive such treatment was Dany. "Oh, so that's way you were always there," the girl said to the dragon. She turned to look at them. "I think that it would be best if I only talked to her."

Rhaegar looked at her. "Are you sure it is Lyanna, Dany?"

"Yes, it is her." She looked at her brother. "And she doesn't like you or Elia very much."

Elia was stunned by that declaration. "But why?" she asked.

"Where has she been?" asked Rhaella asked. "Why has she come to King's Landing now?"

"We all know that answer, Mother," said Rhaegar. He was about to speak but stopped himself. "Dany, tell her."

His sister nodded. "Daemon's not here," she told the dragon. "He's gone. We don't know where." That wasn't true. They knew where he was going. Why didn't Dany say that?

The dragon did not respond the way Elia thought. It simply lifted its wings and flew into the air. They all watched as it flew to the city, to Rhaenys's Hill. Soon, word would spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms and beyond. The Targaryens had a dragon once more. And yet, it did not taste sweet to Elia. She looked at her husband and saw he felt the same. They had a dragon again but would its loyalty stay with them?

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

Well, that certainly didn't turn out the way they expected.

And now, what comes next. Remember what I said about your predictions and arguments: feed me.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	37. Chapter 37

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 37: Quentyn

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Narrow Sea)

The ship rocked back and forth. _"Look at the horizon. Look at the horizon,"_ Quentyn told himself. It was something he heard one of the sailors that would help with his sickness. It didn't know if the man was having a laugh at his expense but he was willing to try anything.

As he looked at the horizon, his eyes looked at where they had sailed from, King's Landing. He still couldn't believe that they had managed to get out of there without being discovered. They had been planning this for a while and yet, it still felt like they were going to get caught, walking through the streets of the city to docks. That was the longest journey Quentyn had ever felt.

The sounds of someone emptying his stomach came from the other side of the ship. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was throwing up. _"Every day Sam does this,"_ he thought to himself. _"I would've thought he'd have gotten used to it by now."_ Then again, Sam did say he didn't like the sea. He was a self-proclaimed coward. But then, Quentyn didn't think a coward could help do this.

The more Quentyn stayed in King's Landing while Jon was there, the more he could see the storm coming. With that storm, there would be a war. Somehow, he just knew it would be one worse than the War of the Usurper, maybe it would be known as another Dance of the Dragons. If it happened, it would be a war that would tear the Seven Kingdoms apart. He saw but what amazed him was how no one else seemed to see it.

He wanted to talk about it to someone but he knew he couldn't talk to his family about it. Arianne was still judging him because of where he was fostering. Oberyn might've been changing his attitude about him but Quentyn that it was slow and a talk like this would make him swing to the originals and keep them there.

He thought he was alone in his thoughts but much to his surprise, he found that there were others. Sam was one of them, Edd was a third, and so was Ser Daemon Sand. They found one another and quickly began speaking out of sight from others. They discussed what could be done to stop but there seemed like there was nothing that could be done. They didn't any kind of strength or support in court.

And yet, somehow they got that. They each received a note, detailing a tunnel in Jon's room that would lead out to the city or the sea. All they would have to do was concoct a plan that would see Jon safely out of the city and their benefactor would provide the rest. It was suspicious none of them could doubt that. None of them knew who their benefactor was, only that he signed each note GOTR.

Whoever that person had been, they were given a chance. They talked to each other, planned out the escape. Jon was brought into confidence only when they were sure they had the plan and could make it work. When Jon was told, Quentyn thought that there would be some resistance on his part. After all, he had seemed to grow closer to the royal family.

But it wasn't so. Jon agreed with the only hesitation being it being on the night before his wedding. While it was regrettable, it was the only night they figured they would be able to escape as best they could. Quentyn ensured it by mentioning to his cousin of the Dornish tradition of the last night that one night a groom and his friends went out to celebrate the end of his bachelorhood.

Aegon took to the idea like a fish to water. Quentyn and the others joined that night and like Jon, they barely drank that night. When the others staggered and stumbled back to the Red Keep roaring drunk, they were sober. An hour later, they came through the tunnel, where Edd had been waiting, and spirited Jon away. And now, they were out here, at sea.

Someone came beside him. "Are you well?"

He looked at the ship's captain. Out of all the people he had expected to be captain, never had he thought it would be the Onion Knight. "I am fine, Ser Davos," he replied. "I was told to look to the horizon."

"Aye, that'll do it. Good advice." He looked to the sea with a searching look. Quentyn didn't know what he was looking. It seemed to be a clear day to him. "Might be a storm later on," the plain looking man said. "You'd best head down below it reaches us."

It sounded ridiculous and Quentyn was tempted to say as much. But he wasn't a sailor and he didn't want to sound foolish. "Of course, Ser Davos," he said. He started for the hatch to go below decks, only to stop. There was a thought in his mind now. "Ser Davos, may I ask you a question?"

"Please, go ahead, your Highness."

"Why are you helping us?" What he was doing, it was treason. There was no doubt about that. He risked his neck by shipping them away from King's Landing.

The Onion Knight clutched the pouch around his neck. Quentyn had wondered what was inside that bag. Was it some kind of good luck charm? "I did it because my lord commanded me to aide you in your escape."

"Stannis Baratheon?"

"Aye," he answered.

It was surprising and prompted him to ask another question. "Why?"

"Oh, I'm sure that he has his reasons for doing this."

None that Quentyn could see. Stannis Baratheon had bent the knee to King Rhaegar when the war had ended and served the crown faithfully since. Why would he suddenly betray the Iron Throne? He looked more closely at the Onion Knight. "Do you know his reasons, ser?"

"I would say that he did this for the same reason you did: to stop a war from happening."

That raised another question. Did Lord Stannis know of what could've come? Was he contacted by GOTR too? Just who was this GOTR? But before he continued to ask those questions, he remembered something Ser Davos just said. "Ser, you said that was just one reason."

"Aye, I did."

"Is that the only reason you know of?"

"It's one I believe that I was sent on this trip."

"But you think there was another reason?"

He clutched the pouch as he stared out at sea. "Perhaps, in some small way, he did it as revenge against King Rhaegar."

Quentyn wanted to look at him but his stomach was feeling queasy again so he looked out to the horizon. The question stayed with him. "Is that the truth, ser?"

"I would not know, your Highness. I did not ask my lord that when he sent me to King's Landing." He turned around to his ship. "Remember to go below decks before that storm hits us."

It was good advice all the same. Quentyn stared at the horizon for a few moments longer. Once he knew that his stomach had settled, he turned around and quickly made his way to the hatch. He went down the decks just as quickly until he reached the others. "The captain said that there's going to be a storm coming," he told them all. "We should be prepared."

Sam, already green from being seasick, turned greener. "A s-storm?" he repeated, unable to keep the squeak out of his voice.

Jon looked just as nauseous as Sam did. Of course, he looked a little strange, thanks to the cloth tied around his head. It had been Ser Daemon's idea to shave off his hair. That way, he would be less recognizable. "Did he say when the storm would be here?" he asked.

"Later, he said."

Grenn groaned from his hammock. "That just makes it worse." Edd didn't say anything. He was asleep in his hammock but look no less miserable.

"Shut it, Aurochs," Pyp said from the other hammock. "We're all miserable down here."

He peered up from his hammock and glared at the smaller man. "If I could move, I would thump you," he said warningly.

"If you could move, I would be able to move too. And you wouldn't catch me."

Quentyn listened to their bickering with a tired smile. He knew that they didn't mean what they said. They were all friends made in Riverrun. Sam had found them in King's Landing and brought them into the fold. Pyp had been the one to cut Jon's hair.

Ser Daemon was the only one who didn't look affected by the sway of the ship. He had probably been on a few more ships than the rest of them. He sat at the small table and looked at them all. "What do we do now?" he asked, utterly serious.

All thoughts about the ship swaying and their sickness vanished. It was a good question. What were they going to do? They had gotten Jon out of King's Landing. Now what were they going to do? Quentyn looked around at the others. "Any one got a suggestion?" he asked.

"Do you?" Grenn asked back.

"No."

"I don't either."

"We already knew that," Pyp retorted.

Jon looked at them both. "Enough of that," he said. "This is serious."

They fell silent. Everyone looked at everyone. Quentyn was sure they were all thinking of something but no one said anything. "We could sail for Essos," Ser Daemon suggested.

"Where to?" asked Pyp.

"Anywhere we want."

"We could go to Braavos then? My troupe always wanted to play in Braavos."

Grenn frowned. "Why would they want to go there?"

"It's Braavos."

"So?"

"It's Braavos!"

His frown turned irritated. "You said that already!"

"I don't think that Braavos is a good idea," Quentyn objected, thinking about the idea. He was fairly certain his father mentioned how the king was in talks with Braavos for a treaty. If that treaty went through, the Braavosi could yield them back to Westeros and that could get them in trouble.

"Then where?" asked Pyp.

"We could go to Tyrosh and Lys," offered Ser Daemon. "I've been there before on business for Prince Doran."

" _And with my uncle,"_ Quentyn thought to himself. He knew what people said about Ser Daemon when he was a square for Oberyn. He never asked but he believed it. Still, to go to Tyrosh or Lys was a good idea. Westeros didn't officially deal with them.

"W-Wouldn't that cause a problem?" asked Sam.

He looked at the fat boy. "What do you mean by that?"

"It's in the opposite direction. We would have to turn around and sail back, close to Dragonstone and King's Landing. They would notice us."

The room was silent as they considered those words. "Shit, he's right," Ser Daemon agreed. "What's worse, we'd sail close to Dorne."

"What of it?" Pyp asked. "We got away from them, didn't we?"

"But we would be running back to them," Grenn said back. He grinned, knowing that he had Pyp. The smaller boy just glared at him.

Sam nodded at Grenn before saying, "So we have to keep sailing north."

"To White Harbor," Quentyn said. From there, they would go to Winterfell.

"No," said Jon, finally speaking. "Not to White Harbor."

They all looked at him, surprised. "What?" Sam said.

Ser Daemon looked hard at him. "Jon, do you know what you are saying?"

"Aye, I do."

"And you say it still?"

He nodded. "We can't go to White Harbor."

"Is there somewhere else in the North we can go?" asked Sam, looking nervously at him.

He shook his head and said, "No, there's isn't."

Quentyn didn't know what to make of all this new information. Ser Daemon looked at them all and then at Jon. "Then where do you suggest we go?" he asked. "Sail past Braavos to Lorath? Hide in their mazes?"

"There's a city past Braavos?" Grenn asked, surprised.

Pyp groaned in his hammock, either from annoyance or sickness. "He just said that!"

"I wasn't thinking of Lorath," Jon told them all, quietly.

"Then where?"

He didn't know how but Quentyn knew where the Northerner was thinking. "You want to go there?" he asked. "You know what it means but you want to go there?"

"I was thinking of it before I came to Riverrun. When I was to return to Winterfell, I was planning to join."

The idea had merit. He would be protected from the royal family trying to get him back if he joined. "What of us?" he asked. "We came to get you out of King's Landing, Jon. Would you have us sail back once you're gone?"

"I won't ask you to join me." He was being stubborn. It seemed to be a trait amongst the wolves. One side of his parentage might be in doubt but no one could doubt that he was half a Stark.

No one said anything. They sat in silence as the ship rolled. No one outright said it but they all knew what Jon was thinking about. "I'll go," said Samwell, quietly.

All heads swung to him. "You'll what?" Pyp almost exclaimed. The ship roll and his voice took a nauseous groan.

"I'll go with him when he leaves."

"Sam, I won't ask you to do that," Jon told him.

He smiled but it didn't look that convincing. "It's alright," he said. "I was probably going to end there anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Grenn wondered.

"I'm not my father's son."

That sounded ridiculous to Quentyn. He looked at Ser Daemon and saw he felt the same way. "Your name is Tarly," he told him.

"It is."

"Then you are your father's son."

He shook his head. "Not in the way he sees it. I'm a craven. Dickon, my younger brother, is the heir my father wants. I stand in his way."

And this would be one way to get rid of an heir Lord Randyll Tarly didn't want. He wouldn't kill his heir. The Seven Kingdoms would've heard of such a thing. "Would you really go there?" Quentyn asked Sam.

"Yes."

Give up everything he had known, all the comforts. "That's very brave, Sam."

He paled, which made him look even sicker. "No, it's not. It's cowardly."

"It is not."

"Quentyn is right," Ser Daemon said, nodding his head in agreement. "What you want to do is brave. Anyone who says otherwise will face me in combat."

Sam looked shocked to hear such words from him. So was Quentyn. There was something else in his words. "Daemon, are you…?"

He didn't ask the question but the bastard nodded. "I will join them."

"But—"

"There's nothing but about it. My father is the heir to Godsgrace and he has other children. He would see what I've done and be proud of it." He sounded so sure, so confident of what he spoke.

Quentyn wished he could have that kind of confidence. He knew that he wouldn't inherit Dorne. That was Arianne. He was just the second son. "I'll go too," Pyp said. "It could be fun." He looked across the room. "You're coming too, Aurochs."

"What?" said Grenn, "Why?"

"Because you are," he told him.

"Eh? Wha?" said Edd, his head rising out of the hammock. He looked really pathetic doing that. "What is going here?"

"We're discussing where we're going to get off," Quentyn said.

"Is it Braavos?"

Pyp threw a look at Grenn. "See?"

"Shut up," he said back.

"No, Edd," Jon said, "It's not Braavos."

He groaned and asked, "Lys?"

"No, it's too far south. We would have to sail past King's Landing."

"Then where?"

"Further north," he answered. Quentyn wondered why he didn't actually say the words. Was he afraid that Edd would refuse if he heard them?

"…There, huh?" asked the sick square. "It can't be any worse than this ship."

"We're supposed to get a storm later," Sam told him.

He looked like he would throw up. "Why did you have to mention that?" he asked in a weak voice.

"I didn't want you to be caught off-guard by it."

"So instead you just wanted to make me wait for it to come? That's worse, Sam, much worse."

"Sorry," he apologized.

Quentyn didn't know if he accepted it or not. Edd looked too sick to actually show what he felt on his face. Finally he said, "Fine. So we're going there?"

"You don't object?" Jon asked

"Why should I? I can't leave you lot alone there. You might think that it will be an adventure. Someone needs to remind you that life is not fun."

That was certainly one way to look at it. Surprisingly, Quentyn found himself agreeing with the sentiment. Sometimes, people needed to be reminded that life wasn't a song. Then he realized that he was the only one who hadn't spoken about what happened next. He found that he didn't need to think about it for long. "I'll come too," he declared.

This time, all the eyes fell onto him. "Quentyn, not you," Jon protested.

"Why, Jon?" Why should he be the one who stays behind?

"You have more to go home to."

"He's right, Quentyn," Ser Daemon agreed.

He looked at the Dornish bastard. They had become friends at Riverrun, something that he had never expected. But that didn't mean he had forgotten who Daemon's first love was. What he and Quentyn thought of his sister were two completely things. "Do I?" he asked. "Do I truly have more waiting for me in Dorne?"

"Yes, you do."

"I have a sister and cousins who hate me because I made a single remark about my foster father, an uncle who feels the same way but has a slightly better control over his temper, no mother, and a father who will not stop my sister." His father could've done that when they were still in Dorne but he never said a word.

"What about your brother or the younger Snakes? Surely they would miss you. And what of your friends, Cletus and Archibald Yronwood or Gerris Drinkwater?" he asked. "What of them?"

He had thought about them. He knew that he would miss them. But the bad things outweighed the good. He had a feeling that if he was to stay in Dorne, Arianne or one of the Sand Snakes would have him killed when Father finally passed. In their minds, it would be justified. "If they were truly my friends, they will understand what it is I am doing. As for Trystane and the others, I will miss them but they will go on without me."

As he finished talking, the room filled with silence. Jon looked at them all with surprise. "You would do this for me?" he asked them. "You would give it up for me?"

"I've already told you why I'm doing," Edd said. "Besides, you need a friend." That was his last word on the subject, mostly because he pulled his head back into the hammock and disappeared from sight.

"He's right," Sam agreed. "We're your friends, Jon."

Ser Daemon nodded, grinning. "He's right. We are your friends, Jon. Who else would break you out of the Red Keep?" The grin faded a little as his words left the obvious implication hanging over their heads.

But Jon smiled at him. "Thank you, Daemon." He turned his gaze slowly around the room. "Thank you all."

Quentyn smiled back at him. This decision felt rather liberating, if he was being honest. It was like he was finally making his choice in life. The ship rocked once more, shaking him out of his thoughts. _"The storm must be getting closer,"_ he thought to himself. Here's hoping they would survive that. He looked at Jon, another question on his mind. "Jon, can I talk to you above deck?"

He nodded and they both climbed upwards. As they came out and smelled the sea air, Quentyn led him over to the rail. "What is it, Quentyn?" Jon asked him as they both stared out at the horizon.

"Is there a reason you don't want to go to Winterfell? Aside from putting the Starks in danger?" he asked.

The Northerner didn't answer him for a long moment, choosing to look out at sea. "…Yes, there is," he said.

"Someone you don't want to talk to?" He had a feeling he knew who it would be.

"Yes. And that was all he would say on the matter. Even when the storm hit and they were hanging on for their lives below decks, Jon would not talk about Winterfell.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

And that's how it happened. We all know where they're going.

I think that Sam would have figured out what his father would've wanted without the threat. He's not an idiot or blind.

But wait, there's more! The thing you've all been waiting for! Ned Stark makes another appearance next chapter!

I'll see you all next chapter!


	38. Chapter 38

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 38: Aegon

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: the North)

They had marched North with an army and a dragon. They had been hoping to catch whoever took Jon before they went through the Neck. But whoever had done had a lead that prevented such a thing. They chased them through the Riverlands, right through Riverrun. Lord Edmure and Ser Brynden had welcomed them, even if they were shocked by the dragon. It was at their castle that the king had learned Lord Tywin hadn't taken Riverrun and freed the prisoners. Lord Edmure had been told by his nephew to let them walk out of their own free will. It was puzzling to say the least.

They marched through the North expecting a fight. But there was none to be found. Each castle they passed, its lord was polite but asked the same question: what was the king doing in the North? It was like they were actually trying to be stupid. But it couldn't have been that. Aegon felt like something else was happening. He just didn't know what it was.

Their march continued up the kingsroad until they rested at the hills before Winterfell. Aegon sat upon his horse and looked at the seat of the Starks. "So, that's where he'll be," he said to his father.

"Yes, that's where your brother is," Father said. Mother said beside him and by her side, Rhaenys. Aegon thought they were supposed to stay in King's Landing but Mother had convinced Father that they should come.

Perhaps it was because so that Dany wouldn't be the only woman who wasn't a camp follower in the army. He knew that she had to come because she was the only one who could ride the dragon. They had all tried to ride it, with the exception of Grandmother. Father was snarled at again and received a jet of flame at his feet in warning. He and Rhaenys didn't get the same kind of warning but they knew with one look from the dragon that it was a wiser course of action not to try.

Aegon looked at Winterfell once more and noticed something. "They're not prepared for a siege." There were also no obvious signs of an army.

Mother's gaze was hard as she looked at the castle too. "Perhaps they mean to pretend that nothing is wrong, just like the other castles."

Ser Jaime rode up beside them. "Your Grace, there's a problem," he said immediately.

Father looked at him. "What problem?"

"The dragon has landed and is refusing to move."

They all looked at him when he said that. "What?" Father said. "Are you certain?"

"Yes, your Grace. Princess Daenerys has been trying to get it flying again but it growled at her and she stopped."

That was not something they wanted to hear. The dragon was supposed to be their advantage against the Starks. But if it wouldn't fly towards Winterfell, they couldn't use it. "Why isn't it flying?" he asked.

"Perhaps she has seen Winterfell once more, and that is enough for her," said Mother sadly.

He didn't have anything to say to that. He personally wasn't sure if the dragon was Lyanna Stark. For one thing, how would that have worked? She had been a Stark, a wolf of the North. How did she become a dragon? But even he had to admit that the way the dragon treated his parents seemed more than a dragon discouraging riders. If that was the case, he had to wonder what the Stark had thought about her parents in the end.

"What now?" Rhaenys asked quietly.

Father didn't wait long to answer. "We ride into Winterfell. I will talk to Lord Stark before I attack. I want to see that he has Daemon with him."

They all rode forward to the ancient castle, Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell, and Ser Arthur at their side. The army came behind them but they came slowly. They reached the gate first. "Who comes to Winterfell?" shouted the guard atop the wall.

They didn't have a herald with them. Father answered, "The King of Westeros. I have come to talk with Lord Stark!"

Aegon wondered if they would be refused. But the guard turned his head and shouted into the castle. The gate opened and they went through. The yard beyond was filled with men, all clearly armed and all clearly watching them. But Aegon wasn't looking them. He was too busy looking at the Lord of Winterfell, his wife, his heir, and Viserys. The rest of his children were not in sight.

All it took was one look to see how much Jon favored Eddard Stark. The grim, quiet man was a picture of what Jon would grow to be. He had no weapon in his hands and wore no armor but there was still the feeling around him that he had known battle and had emerged from it better than he had been before. His grey eyes were guarded, much like Jon's had been, but they were also cold. He didn't want them here.

Still, when the king approached, he bent the knee and acted like the perfect loyal lord. The rest of the yard followed his actions, even if they didn't want to. "Welcome to Winterfell, King Rhaegar," he said in a quiet voice just as guarded as his eyes. "We have been expecting you."

" _I'm sure you have,"_ Aegon thought to himself. They made such a scene riding north it would've been a surprise if they hadn't been seen.

"What business do you have in the North?"

"Cut the mummer's act, Lord Stark," Father said, his voice holding back a burning anger. "Where is he?"

Lord Stark only looked confused. "Where is you, your Grace?"

Mother looked just as angry as Father. "You know fully well who, Lord Eddard," she said to him. "Where is Daemon?"

"Daemon?" he repeated, still looking confused. "Who is this Daemon?"

"You know who he is! Where is your nephew, Lord Stark? Where is Daemon Targaryen?"

The Lord of Winterfell still looked confused, like he didn't know what they were talking about. "My queen, I'm afraid I do not know who you are talking about. I was not aware of any Daemon Targaryen." He looked to the dragon on his side of this verbal battle. "Prince Viserys, do you know of any Daemon Targaryen?"

"Only those in the books of history," replied Aegon's uncle.

Father was angered by the words. "You know Daemon, Viserys. You've seen him, talk to him."

"I told you before, Rhaegar. The only son of yours I recognize is Aegon." He looked at him as he spoke.

Aegon met his violet eyes and he realized what was happening. Both Lord Stark and Viserys, perhaps the entirety of Winterfell and the North, weren't just denying Jon's heritage. They were denying the idea that he had even existed in the first place. He was a little impressed by what they were trying to do but also astounded by what they were doing. He had gotten to know Jon in the days leading up to his disappearance and truly felt like they were brothers. His doubt about his parentage had dwindled until it was barely there.

Why would the North deny that he existed? _"They're not,"_ he understood. _"They're denying_ Daemon _existed."_ He saw what was happening. Despite what the king had proclaimed to be the truth, everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knew the truth: the only one who could say whether Jon Snow was King Rhaegar's son was Eddard Stark. If he spoke, people would believe.

He looked at his family. They all realized the same thing he did. "Your Graces," said Lady Stark, speaking before they had a chance to. "If you would like to search Winterfell, we will not stop you. Please look for yourselves and see that we are telling the truth."

" _Wait, did she really just offer that?"_ Aegon asked. They were going to allow a possible hostile force search their castle? Was this some kind of trap? They hadn't been given guest rights. The Starks could have them killed easily.

But no one made a move against them. They waited silently. "Ser Arthur, Ser Oswell," said Father. "Take men and search the castle." It was all he said.

His son knew why he had chosen them before anyone else. All of Westeros knew of Ser Dayne's chivalry and while Ser Whent had a black humor, he had a true heart. They would search the castle and do just that. They would take no liberties with the servants of Winterfell nor would they allow their men the same.

The Kingsguard chose their men and disappeared into the castle. Lord Stark did not move from his place. Neither did Lady Stark nor Lord Robb. As response, the royal family stayed in place too. The time stretched until an hour passed, then another. No one spoke and the silence grew strong over their heads.

When the Kingsguard did finally return with their men, Aegon was glad to see them. His legs were becoming stiff and sore. He desperately wanted to sit down but he could not. "Your Grace," said Ser Arthur, a baffled look on his face. "It is as they said, he's not here."

Father and Mother were both shocked and angered. "He must be here," said Mother in a quiet whisper. "Did they move him?"

Ser Oswell shook his head. "We left a man in each room we searched, in case they would try to do such a thing. He's not here."

Lord Stark spoke, "It is as I had said, my king. There is no one named Daemon Targaryen here in Winterfell."

"Then where is he, Lord Stark!?" shouted Mother.

He remained cold. "Queen Elia, I do not know of any Targaryen named Daemon."

"Then where is Jon Snow?" Father asked him. "Where is your so-called bastard?" Aegon saw what his father was doing. If one name would not work, then he would use another.

Recognition spread across the northern lord's face. Then it was replaced with confusion. "Did he not tell you when he left King's Landing?" he asked.

"Left?" repeated Father. "You mean kidnapped."

They shared a look amongst themselves. "We were led to believe he left King's Landing freely, King Rhaegar," Lady Stark said, "when he joined the Night's Watch."

Silence reigned so strong that a pin would've dropped and sounded like the castle collapsing all around them. _"The Wall?"_ thought Aegon. _"He went to the Wall?"_ It was almost hard to believe that it would go this far. But as he thought about it, he saw it made a certain sense. If Jon wanted to go somewhere the king couldn't find him and take him back, the Wall would be such a place.

He glanced at his sister. She looked completely shocked. "The Wall?" repeated Rhaenys. "He went to the Wall."

"He did, with some of the friends he made in the south," Lord Stark told her. He looked at them all, still looking confused. "None of them told their families?"

"Who were these friends?" Aegon asked. He found himself a little surprised at having spoken but he did not let it show on his face.

"Samwell Tarly, Ser Daemon Sand, and Prince Quentyn Martell, among others," he answered.

The Prince of Dragonstone was surprised. He hadn't really thought about it but there had been the fact that Quentyn had disappeared. It was overruled by the fact that Jon had disappeared but Uncle Oberyn had been worried. Now he knew where his cousin was. He just had a single question. "Why?"

"Why what, your Highness?" asked Lord Stark.

"Why would Quentyn join the Night's Watch?" He was from Dorne, for the love of the gods. He didn't have the first idea of what cold was!

"He probably did not want to leave his friend alone," said Robb. It was the first thing he said throughout the entire meeting. He sounded much different from when they met in Riverrun. He sounded more like his father.

"Either that or he realized he wouldn't be able to stomach his sister," Viserys added. His scorn for the Martell princess was still obvious.

Lord Stark looked Father in the eye. "You have no business here in Winterfell, my king. If you wish to stay the day and the night to rest and recover, you may do so. But we cannot have you stay any longer than that. We've not the stores for it."

He was right and both men knew it. They had come with an army to storm Winterfell to take back Jon. But he wasn't here. He was at the Wall, probably having already taken the oath. Lord Stark was right. They had no business in Winterfell. They had no business in the North.

He glanced at his father. King Rhaegar was angry but he also knew that the man was right. Aegon could see in his eyes how he was tempted to order the army to attack. But he didn't. He stared at Lord Stark like he wanted to strike the man but he didn't. "There is no need to bother yourself, Lord Stark," he said. "We will not stay. But there is the matter of your heir."

"Robb?" the Northern lord asked. "What's he done?"

"Your son led an army south into the Riverlands. He held the heirs of Lords Paramount and others hostage at Riverrun. He meant to come to King's Landing to attack us and take away Daemon."

Lord Stark didn't look outraged at those words. He turned his attention to his son. "What do you say to that, Robb?"

"That the king, if he will pardon my words, is mistaken, Father," Robb Stark answered. "I did lead a force through the Riverlands for King's Landing, but I only did so to recover Jon. When I learned that he had left, I had no business in the south. So I turned back and came home."

"And his claim of hostages?" his father asked.

"That again, he is mistaken. I did not hold any man or woman hostage. We stayed in Riverrun for a few days coming down from the North, enjoying ourselves with the other young nobles. When it came time to march again, I had advised them it would not be a good idea if they were to try and leave for home, that it would be better if they stayed in Riverrun a little while longer. When the Pack and I travelled back north, I told them that they could leave now."

Aegon wasn't sure if he was telling the truth or was that good of a liar. They had all heard of Lord Stark was completely honorable and he had seen himself at Riverrun just how much his son took after his father. But here he was spinning a tale that was very different from the one they had heard first. But the first they had heard of it was from Viserys.

He eyed his uncle. _"Did he plan to make us think the worse of this?"_ he wondered. He was beginning to feel that they had been caught in an elaborate trap made of half-truths and other words. It was something he didn't expect from the Starks and one look at his family told him that they hadn't expected it either.

He watched his father to see what he would do next. None of the people supposedly held in Riverrun had come with them. They were all sent home with loyal men quickly. They probably shouldn't have done that, he realized that now. So did Father. "We will leave now," he declared.

They all started to turn when Mother said, "Wait."

"My queen…"

"My king, there is something I wish to know from Lord Stark."

His eyes were full of anguish. He leaned in close to her. "He's not here, Elia," he whispered.

"I know. But there is something else we can learn." She turned to the northern lord. "Lord Stark, please answer a question."

"A question?" he asked.

"Yes, a question."

"If I can answer it, I will."

"You can answer it, Lord Stark. You were the last one to see your sister, Lyanna."

" _What?"_ Aegon thought, looking at his mother. _"Why would you ask that question, Mother?"_ She and Father claimed to love Lady Lyanna but to ask what her dying moments were seemed like something that should be asked in a more private setting.

He looked at Lord Stark. Something changed about him. Aegon wasn't sure what or how, but he looked at Lord Stark and got the feeling that he was looking at a wolf about to attack prey for the kill. "What of it?" he asked.

"Please, tell us what her last moments were."

His eyes showed nothing but Aegon felt like there was a hint of pleasure lurking in them. He was enjoying this. "Queen Elia, by what right do you ask for that?"

"The right of a sister-wife," she answered angrily. "I married Lyanna, the same as Rhaegar. Daemon is my child just as much as he was hers." She lost the furious look in her eyes and sadness replaced them. "Please, Lord Stark, tell us both of Lyanna. Did she think of us?"

"…She did," he answered. Smiles appeared on both the queen's and the kings's face. They were happy. "They were thoughts of hate."

The happiness drained out of their faces fast. Aegon was surprised too. "What?" the king said. "What did you say?"

"I say the truth, King Rhaegar, as your queen had asked me. When I found her, Lyanna cursed the both of you. She cursed you for proclaiming that you loved her, that you seduced her with your letters. She told me that she should have married Robert. She knew that she was dying and she was happy for it, for it meant that she would be free of you."

He was not cruel in how he spoke those words. He simply spoke them like he was answering a question someone want answered. But Aegon knew that he was enjoying the looks of pain and anguish on his parents' faces. "No," Father said, that single word covering all the pain he had.

"She begged me to not give her back. 'Burn me, Ned,' she told me. 'Burn until I'm nothing but ashes. Spread those ashes to the fours before you give them to those dragons.' She also begged the same of her child. She wanted me to take it with me, take it back to Winterfell. If you were to demand it, she wanted me to slit her child's throat."

Never had Aegon seen his parents so enraged. "What did you say?" Father demanded.

Lord Stark did not react to his anger. He kept talking as if he hadn't been interrupted. "I hadn't the heart to tell her that her child was dead, had been dead since her birth perhaps. She was delirious, from the pain of birth and no help." He looked the king in the eyes. "She did not know that her daughter was dead."

" _He's lying,"_ Aegon realized, shocked at his own recognition. Here was Lord Eddard Stark, a man renowned for his honesty and honor, and he was lying right to the king's face about Lyanna Stark. _"Why? Why is he lying?"_ As soon as he asked that question, he felt foolish. He knew why the Stark was lying.

This was his revenge. This was his revenge for the rebellion, for the loss of his father, brother, friend, and sister. The king and Lord Stark had never met in battle. But now they were in verbal warfare and Lord Stark was winning. More than that, he was enjoying it. He was enjoying how he was torturing the king.

The queen looked just as pained as her husband. "This can't be," she said in protest. "She had a son, Daemon."

"She had a stillborn daughter." He kept his eyes on the king. "Had she lived, I expect that you would have wanted to call her Visenya. Lyanna would've named her after our grandmother, Arya."

And now, his daughter had been given that name instead. He was declaring to all that Lyanna Stark had no son but a daughter who had died. But he was lying. Aegon knew it now. He was lying to twist the knife in the king slowly and painfully. He didn't need to look at his family to know that they knew it too.

But there was nothing they could say against that. They had all known that if Lord Stark would speak, it would be the truth of what had happened in Dorne. They had been expecting it, hoping the matter of who Jon really was would be made clear. Instead, he was giving them his truth a truth they knew was false, just so he could torment the king.

Aegon didn't know what to say. Was there anything to say? He waited for Father to say something. The king looked as if he was in great pain. "Very well, Lord Stark," he said with a quiet voice. "Our business is concluded."

" _That's it?"_ his son silently asked. That was all he was going to say? It couldn't just end like this.

But it seemed like it would be like that. The King of Westeros was turning away from his Warden of the North. Aegon had to follow his example. He saw Ser Arthur whispering in his ear. _"What does he want?"_ the prince wondered. Whatever it was, the Kingsguard stayed behind while they left.

* * *

When Ser Arthur came back to the camp, Aegon wondered what it was he did inside Winterfell. When he saw him leaving Rhaenys's tent, he went inside. "Rhaenys?" he called out as he entered the tent.

His sister poked her head out behind a wooden cover. "Give me a moment, would you, Aegon?" she asked him. "I'm changing."

He turned back and faced the camp. Some people might've thought that since he was a Targaryen he should be looking inside the tent. He could admit that his sister was beautiful but that was it. He had enough proof from his own grandfather and the rest of his ancestors to declare them all fools and idiots. From here on out, the Targaryens would not practice marrying blood to blood. It was wrong, not just in the eyes of the gods, but in the eyes of…everything.

He heard feet moving behind him. "Alright, what do you need?"

She was wearing a robe when he turned around. She looked ready to go to sleep. "What was Ser Arthur doing in here?" he asked.

An amused smirk appeared on her lips. It wasn't so effective since she was tired. "Someone else might think something was happening if they asked that."

"I'm asking it. Was it because he stayed in Winterfell when we left?"

Her eyes were full of pain. He felt like a fool for talking about the castle. "Yes," he finally said. "He asked Father to stay behind for a little longer. He wanted to check in with Jocelyn."

In all the confusion and reaction following Jon's disappearance from the Red Keep (although that was probably now him running away) he had forgotten her friend had gone back to the North. "Is she alright?'

"She's fine. He told me that he found her happy to be back in the North. He also learned something else." There was a look of disbelief in her eyes when she said that but it was muffled by how tired she looked.

He still saw it. "What is it?"

"Apparently, Lord Eddard is not her father. He's her uncle."

He had not expected that. But his mind did not fail him. If it was not Eddard Stark, that left only one Stark who could've been her father. "His brother, Brandon Stark?" he asked. She nodded. "Is she alright?"

"From what Ser Arthur told me, she is. She's quite happy and loves her life in Winterfell."

The air turned a little awkward between them. "Do you think what Lord Stark said is true?" he asked.

That was the wrong thing to say. "Does it matter?" she asked. "Jon's gone." She turned her back on him. "Leave me be, Aegon."

"Of course," he told her, stepping back to the entrance. "Goodnight, Rhaenys."

As he stepped out into the open air again, his eyes found the dragon, resting on the hilltop nearby and watching Winterfell. In the setting sun, the dragon was majestic, beautiful, and deadly. He wondered if the dragon was truly Lyanna. If it was, why did she not get closer, to see her family once more. Was it because that she was a dragon now, she felt that she did not belong there?

Somehow, he found himself walking towards the dragon. He didn't know. Perhaps with what he knew, he could talk to her, see if they could come to an understanding. He shook his head at the thought. Two months ago, he would've thought coming to an understanding with a dragon sounded like a fool's game. Then again, two months ago, he didn't think there were dragons still alive.

He reached the hill and came to a stop. He saw his parents standing before the dragon. They were talking but the dragon was ignoring them. He came closer, close to hear them. "Lyanna, please," said Mother. "We're sorry. We're sorry. We didn't mean for this to happen."

"We didn't want to make you sad," said Father, sounding just as sorrowful and broken as his wife. "We wanted to make you happy. We wanted to love you. We didn't know things would happen the way they did. Please, forgive us."

They said those things again and again. But Aegon suspected that any chance for forgiveness had long since passed. The dragon didn't look at them. It was like they didn't exist to it. The son watched his parents apologize again and again to the dragon, only to get no reaction. He turned away and walked back down the hill. He didn't need to see it any more.

No one would remember it any way. They would remember how the dragon came north with an army, only to be quelled with a single stare of the wolf. Just how was his family going to explain this one?

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

Not what you were expecting, right? You see, I told you to feed me because I knew how this was going to end from the start. I expect a lot of you are going to be disappointed that it looks like that no one is going to have a happy ending with this. Come on, people. This is Game of Thrones, nobody ends up happy! If they do, they're either going to end up dead real quick or be in for a major disappointment.

For the record, I have my own theory about the dragons in this world and it does tie in to Lyanna being a dragon. I think that the Targaryen phrase "Fire and Blood," goes a little deeper than we think. I think when they said blood they were actually talking about the soul. The fire stirs the dragon but the soul awakens it.

Sounds ridiculous, I know. But look at it this way. When Daenerys hatched her dragons, there were three participants that we know of: Dany herself, Drogo, and Mirri Maz Duur. I'd be willing to bet that there was a fourth person: Rhaego burning alongside his father (as far as I remember, they didn't say what happened to his body).

Either way you look at it there were at least three people in that ritual. All three dragons hatched. If we look at it from the original three, I see how Dany came out of it alive and not the others, aside from the whole blood of the dragon bit. Drogo was dead, Mirri was strapped in and couldn't move, but Dany walked in willingly.

Everyone was asking me how Lyanna turned into a dragon (they're also accused me of bringing that out of nowhere. I left clues). My answer is this theory with a further addendum: the soul doesn't have to be a Targaryen to be a dragon. Maybe Lyanna was a skinchanger and just didn't know it.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	39. Chapter 39

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 39: Rhaenys

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: King's Landing)

The air in the throne room was part tense, part anticipating. Rhaenys could glance up on the Iron Throne and see her brother, the king, waiting there. She looked down to its side and saw Queen Margaery waiting there, along with their four children. But that was not all of them. There was one more, someone the twin boys, Baelor and Gaemon, Aegon's youngest, have never met.

But they would meet him now. Today was the day they would meet their eldest brother, the crown prince. And it would the first time in almost four and ten years that Rhaenys would've seen her first nephew. If she pictured Maekar, she imagined a five year old boy, always running and smiling.

She wasn't surprised when the time came for him to be fostered. Practically everyone in Westeros was salivating for the chance to foster the Prince of Dragonstone. So when Aegon announced where his son would be fostered, it was safe to say the court and Westeros was shocked. Maekar had asked if he was being punished and then refused to go. His father ignored his complaints and sent him to serve the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.

Thinking of the Night's Watch made her think of Jon. She couldn't help it. Even when she had been married, she still thought of him. She couldn't even think of him as Daemon. It was just a name that was attached to him but it wasn't him. To her, he was Jon.

Her parents would have disagreed if they were still living. To them, even after they had returned from Winterfell, there was no Jon Snow, only Daemon. They had history rewritten, saying that he joined the Night's Watch to stop the Seven Kingdoms from going into civil war, never mind the fact that he had escaped from King's Landing.

They had sent message after message, raven after raven, to the Wall for Daemon. Rhaenys never knew what was in them, perhaps words of love or questions. What she did know was that not a single letter had been answered. It was like they never reached their destination.

The herald banged his staff against the floor. Rhaenys rolled her eyes. _"I'm nearing my forties and we still have that irritating herald."_ They needed to find something else, something different.

"Presenting Crown Prince Maekar Targaryen!" the herald's voice roared out for all to hear.

The doors opened and in walked her nephew. He wasn't a boy any more. At nine and ten years, he looked just like his father at that age. He walked tall and confidently. But he didn't alone. His hand held the hand of a woman his own age. She was beautiful with those blue eyes and dark honey hair. She carried a bundle in her free hand.

The both of them were not dressed for court. In fact, none of the people who came with were dressed for court. But it was she had expected from men of the Watch and wildings. It was a shock to see them together, even though it had been more than ten years since the Iron Throne had learned the wildings were allowed through the Wall to settle in the Gift.

She turned her attention to the Watchmen. She recognized her cousin, Quentyn, right away. He looked just like their Uncle Oberyn at that age. But his eyes were covered by a blindfold. He was blind. Rhaenys looked at the Dornish contingent in the court. Both Trystane and Oberyn were horrified at the sight. This was not the sight they had hoped to see. Trystane's son and Oberyn's granddaughter looked at them and then at the man, confused. They didn't know what to make of him.

She didn't know who the wildings were or the Watchmen. They all looked grim and serious, although she could see how some of them, mostly the wildings, were staring at everything with wide eyes. This was probably the first time they had ever seen such construction in their lives. What was it where they had lived?

Her eyes found the white direwolf and they went to the Watchman who walked beside it. Her heart quickened at the sight of Jon Snow. He had been a boy when they saw each other last. But now he was a man and it showed. His face was lean and long, with a beard that hung close. A scar curved around his right eye and another went through his left. His hair was still long but now it was pulled back into a knot.

He wore a sword at his side and a dagger on the other. The sword's hilt was golden with a ruby in its center. That was all she could say about it. The dagger looked different. It was black and crude. It also looked like it had been strapped to the hilt with leather. He walked with the quiet grace of a warrior and the authority of a leader. It was to be expected of the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.

They came before the Iron Throne. Maekar stepped away from the others and bent the knee. "Father, Mother, I have returned home," he said for all to hear.

Aegon said to him, "We are glad to see you once more, Maekar, and proud to see what you have become. A boy was sent to serve the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. A man was returned to us." He gestured to his family. "Your brothers and sister are also happy to see you as well, even those who have not met you."

Margaery ushered her children forward, to their brother. Maekar exchanged warrior grasps with Aenar, kissed Daenys on the cheeks, and knelt down so he could look Baelor and Gaemon in their eyes. He had them giggling within seconds.

He stood up and looked at his father. "I have someone for my family to meet." The woman came to his side and gave him the bundle. He held it as if life was swaddled inside. There was life swaddled inside. As soon as Rhaenys saw the babe with that Targaryen hair, she knew. "This is Maegor Targaryen, your grandson," Maekar announced.

Rhaenys looked at the court and saw how shocked they were. Whispering began, along with several annoyed looks. But there were just as many surprised looks and dismissive looks. There were lords and ladies who dismissed the babe as a bastard. She looked at Margaery. She wasn't the same but she was frustrated. Rhaenys knew why. Ever since word had come to King's Landing that her son was returning, Margaery was preparing possible betrothals.

Aegon did not rise from his throne. He looked down at the babe with cautious eyes. "I will say that he is your child, Maekar. But I would be hesitant to name him a Targaryen."

His son's eyes burned with an angry fire. "He is a Targaryen. I am married."

"To who, Maekar?" asked Margaery.

The woman stepped forward and stood beside him. "To me, Dalla," she declared with a challenge in her voice.

"A wilding?" said Daenys, stunned. "You married a wilding, brother?"

The woman looked at Rhaenys's niece angrily. "He married one of the Free Folk."

The woman standing close to Quentyn, an older version of Dalla, laughed quietly, an amused smile on her. "Aye, he did. And he damned near broke his leg stealing her too."

"Broke his leg?" said Rhaenys, the words blurting out before she could stop herself.

"Stealing?" asked Aegon.

It was Quentyn who spoke. His voice was different from the last she heard it, confident and sure of itself. "Amongst the Free Folk, if a man wants a woman, he has to steal her."

Margaery eyed him and then the woman beside him suspiciously. "And you are?"

"Val, mother of Dalla," she introduced.

Maekar took that moment to introduce the rest of the wildings. He gestured to a plain-looking man. "This is Bael, son of Mance Rayder." To a hard-looking man he said, "This is Young Sam." The tallest of the wildings had deep red hair. He had his arms folded across his chest, making it even larger. "And this is Toregg the Tall." He looked to the Watchmen, three in all. "This is Eddison Tollett—"

"There is no need to introduce the others, Maekar," Aegon said, still sitting on the Iron Throne, wearing the crown of his son's namesake. "Quentyn is known to us, as is the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."

As he looked at him, Jon Snow stepped forward, along with Ghost. He did not bend the knee but looked up at the king as an equal. It was bold of him to do so. _"I wonder what has made him so bold,"_ Rhaenys thought to herself. She rather liked it on him.

"Greetings, King Aegon," Jon said. "I return your son to you."

He smiled. "And we thank you for the obligation of taking him in and teaching him. Many houses wish to take him but I knew of only one person who would mold him into a prince that can become a king, holding no interests but the interests of Westeros."

Rhaenys smiled softly to herself. Aegon had all but said that he had sent his son to his brother. He also all but said that the Night's Watch was like Westeros, that in watching Jon rule it, Maekar had learned how to rule the Seven Kingdoms. He silently acknowledged Jon as a teacher and a ruler.

"You honor me, your Grace. With your permission, I would talk to a member of your court. There is something I must give them."

"By all means, Lord Commander, go on."

He turned and walked towards the court, his wolf staying in place. He walked to the Reach contingent, to where Randyll Tarly, a warrior even at his age, his son and grandson. Lord Randyll hardened his gaze to him but Jon ignored him for his son. "You are Dickon Tarly," he said.

The heir to Horn Hill nodded shortly. He was a bulky man, with some saying that he looked like his father back in his youth. "I am."

He looked down at the boy, only five years old but staring fearlessly up at him. "This is your son, Alan." His eyes came back up to look at Dickon. "When Sam heard he was an uncle, he was ecstatic. He was so happy to hear that his little brother was a father."

Dickon was uncertain, it showed on his face. His father's eyes hardened even more. It was no secret amongst the court that he had thought his eldest son was weak and undeserving of his heritage. Once he had gone to the Wall to join the Night's Watch, his father had breathed a sigh of relief.

Jon Snow was still grim and serious. "I have a gift for your son." He pulled out the dagger in his belt and knelt down to look the boy in the eyes. He held out the dagger hilt-first to him. "This was your uncle's," he said.

Alan looked at the dagger with interest and some small confusion. "It's not steel," he said.

"No, it's not. It's made of dragonglass. It is one of the few weapons that will kill the Others and their wights."

Rhaenys felt uneasy at those words. For years now, since they had heard of the peace between the Watch and the wildings, the court has heard reports about how dead men and these Others were threatening the Wall. No one really believed it but her father sent men and supplies to aid them. And now, here was the Lord Commander saying that they were real, without really saying it.

Lord Randyll scoffed. "He must've been only glad to be rid of that dagger. He couldn't abide such things and cried like a craven."

Both the Watchmen and the wildings looked enraged. Young Sam looked the most angered. He went for the old man would've strangled him if Jon hadn't stopped him. "Calm down," he said.

The wilding didn't want to be calm. "He—"

"He doesn't know. Let me tell him." He pushed the wilding back. Quentyn went to his side, walking comfortably, and held him in place with a single hand to his shoulder. Jon looked back at the Lord Tarly. "You call Sam a craven," he said, quiet fury echoing in his voice. "And he would've thought the same if you gave him a chance. But he never would've let that dagger go from his hands willingly. It saved his life too many times for him to let it go so easily."

Lord Tarly didn't respond. But his son's eyes widened ever so slightly. "Sam's dead?" he asked. "Is that you're saying? He's dead?"

"Aye, he is. He was killed." He looked at Lord Tarly. "He died in battle, a battle where he was the first one in, protecting the Free Folk who dared to settle beyond the Wall again. They were attack by the Others and he rode to their aide."

Still Lord Tarly did not react. But Dickon did. His face was sorrowful and he only had one question. "He fought?"

"He fought until everyone was safe. When he fell, both sides fought to get him. We were only able to bring him back through the Wall by the smallest margins." He looked at Lord Tarly. "To the men of the Watch and the Free Folk, he was known as the Slayer and the War Maester. Insult him at your own risk." His fury was now much more obvious. "Young Sam over there, he's Sam's adopted son. He was named for the man. He will stand no insults to him."

Lord Randyll didn't say anything to him. Instead he looked down at his grandson. "Alan, you hold the weapon of a warrior. Treat it as such."

"Yes, Grandfather," the little boy said. He held the dagger a little more carefully now. Young Sam looked angry that nothing more was said but Rhaenys knew that was all Lord Tarly would say. He thought his son a craven and was proven wrong in the end. His pride would not allow him to say anything else, at least in public.

Jon Snow turned away from them and returned to the Iron Throne. "I also have something to return to the royal family, King Aegon." He pulled the sword out. He held it out for all to see, its blade resting on his hands.

Rhaenys saw the rippling metal, took into account what she had seen of the blade already, and realized what it was. But she couldn't believe it. _"It couldn't be. Could it?"_ She glanced at her brother. He had the same question in his eyes.

Jon answered the question. "This is Dark Sister. It was left in Maester Aemon's care. He entrusted me when he passed away."

"It has been at the Wall all this time? You hadn't thought to send it back to us?"

"Forgive me, your Grace." He didn't sound apologetic as he spoke. "But it was needed at the Wall. But now that I am here, in King's Landing, it is only right that I return it to you."

Aegon said nothing at first. He looked down at his Kingsguard, the only woman amongst them. Arya Stark had earned her place on the Kingsguard. She served as Lady Brienne's squire as they traveled Westeros. When her teacher went back to Tarth to be its lady, she went to Essos to find Blackfyre. She had found it within the Golden Company. Five years she had spent with them, earning their trust and confidence. She was told where the sword was by her third year and stole it two years later. The Golden Company chased her to Braavos but she was able to flee to Westeros.

She did not escaped unscathed but she bore the scars proudly, especially the one over her eye. It had still been fresh when she had walked into this hall, her head held high and her hands holding Blackfyre like it was a priceless treasure. Rhaenys could remember the relief and wonder Aegon had when he took the sword from her hands, holding it in his own for the first time.

Now, that same look was in his eyes as he looked at Dark Sister. The second sword of House Targaryen was back amongst them and they had a dragon too (although Dany and the dragon was in Essos, managing the lands the Iron Throne had conquered in Essos). But something appeared in his eyes, hesitation. His eyes went from the sword to the man holding it.

"No," he finally said. "No, you are right, Lord Commander. You have more need of it now. I only ask that in the event of your death, you send it back to us."

Jon Snow nodded. "Of course, your Grace. Thank you." He slid the sword back into the sheath with ease.

As the court session, the royal family withdrew to private rooms so they could talk more privately. As soon as they were alone, Maekar embraced his father like he was a child again. His wife stood to the side, smiling knowingly. Rhaenys approached her. "May I?" she asked, looking down at her babe.

"Go ahead." She held him out to her.

She took the babe and held him carefully in her arms. He was sleeping and was uncaring of the world around him. His hair was silver, like his father's and grandfather's, but there was also a golden sheen to it as well. He must've gotten it from his mother. He was a big babe and she just knew that he would be a warrior.

Holding him in her arms like this, it reminded her of an old pain. She remembered holding her own son, Daeron, in her arms. He was a good little babe. She loved him with all of her heart. But even though she loved him, the Stranger wanted him more and took him with a cradle-fever. She lost her child and her husband when he joined the crusade in Slaver's Bay. He had left because of Daeron's death.

She smiled sadly and gave him back. "Raise him right and make sure he loves his mother," she told the woman.

"I'll teach him that and to make sure he knows how to fight," she replied.

They turned their attention to the king and his son. "The Lord Commander trained you right, Maekar," Aegon said to him.

"He did," Maekar said. "Although I'm sure that my arrival caused a surprise. I heard some of the men ask if I was being punished. Lord Jon explained it all at supper that same night, how I was to squire for him."

"Were you a good squire?" Gaemon asked him. His eyes were bright with curiosity. He wanted to know everything about the brother he had never met.

"I was. If I stepped out of line or made a mistake, he corrected me and taught me how to do it better. The times I was truly punished were when I deserved it."

Margaery looked like she was angry. But Aegon looked pensive. "Why did he punish you?"

His son looked embarrassed, somewhat. "I…I accidently called him uncle or Daemon. He made me muck out the stables and cleanout the dining halls alone every time I did."

Rhaenys's heart saddened at those words. She shouldn't have been surprised. Not a single letter that had been sent to the Wall was replied to. After all these years, he refused to believe that he was a Targaryen. She stopped herself from becoming even sadder. It wouldn't do anything.

"Maekar," Trystane said from where he stood in the room alongside Oberyn. "Who blinded Quentyn?" There was anger in his voice, something Rhaenys his son didn't see. He and Oberyn's granddaughter were at their lessons with the maester.

He looked at his father's cousin. "An Other blinded him," he answered.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Oberyn. "There's no such thing as an Other. They're just as real as the snarks and grumkins." He spoke with a jesting smile but his tone was absolutely serious.

Maekar looked at him with an angry gleam in his eyes. In that moment, he looked like his grandfather. "They do exist. I saw it happen."

That declaration stopped the room. With the exception of his wife, everyone looked at him. "Are you japing, Maekar?" Aegon asked him.

He looked at the kings. His eyes were no longer angry but they were serious. "No, Father. I'm not. It was an ambush for one of the last groups of Free Folk. We were guiding them to the Wall when the wights attacked us. Two Others were there, watching from the back. They only came to the fight when we were tired from the wights."

"You were there?" Margaery asked a horrified voice speaking.

He nodded. "I was, Mother. The Lord Commander was escorting the group personally and I rode alongside him. He dispatched one of the Others but the second one reached Quentyn and clawed his eyes. Quentyn was able kill it with his dragonglass spear but his eyes were ruined."

Trystane looked sick as he listened. "Seven save us." Oberyn had the same look, but tinged more with sadness. Rhaenys wondered what he was regretting.

"We all thought he would die when he lost his eyes. But he recovered and continued to fight."

"Wait, he can still wield his spear?" Oberyn asked.

Maekar nodded. "He's just like Symeon Star-Eyes. Some of the Watch and Free Folk wanted to call him the Blind Snake after that. But Pyp, one of the Rangers, gave him a better name: Rattlesnake."

" _Rattlesnake,"_ Rhaenys thought to herself, testing the name again and again in her head. It was good name. She knew of the rattlesnake. "Was he named because he would give a warning before he fought?"

"Actually, it was because when Quentyn tried sharpening his spear afterward being blinded, Pyp said that it sounded like a rattlesnake giving off a warning before striking."

"What was that woman with him?" Daenys asked. She touched her chestnut hair self-consciously. "She was beautiful." She looked at Dalla. "Is she really your mother?"

"Yes," Dalla answered.

"So, are you Quentyn's daughter?"

She laughed. "No, I'm not."

Rhaenys's niece was confused. "Then who is?"

"I don't know. Does it matter?"

Now she was horrified. "Of course it matters."

"Why should it? I never met the man and my mother never told me who it was." She spoke as if she didn't care. Rhaenys was surprised by the words. She would've thought that every child would care about who their parents were. Then again, she had known who both her parents were.

"What is your mother to Quentyn?" Trystane asked her.

She looked at him, obviously thinking about something. Her brow funneled into confusion. She looked at Maekar. "What's that word you told me about? The one about a man sleeping with a woman that wasn't his wife?" she asked him.

"Paramour?" he asked back.

She nodded. "That's it. She's his paramour."

Rhaenys was surprised by that. So were the others. Perhaps the one most surprised was Oberyn. "Paramour?" he repeated. "She's Quentyn's paramour?"

Maekar nodded. "Apparently, he's rather good with his hands."

Oberyn looked at him for a long moment. Then he started to laugh. It was a laugh from his younger days, back when Uncle Doran was still alive and he wasn't helping Arianne rule Dorne, when he was free to go where he wanted. His laughter died down as he looked at his nephew. "It appears I've underestimated your brother," he said. "I will have to apologize to him."

Aenar frowned in concentration. He must be thinking about something, possibly something about laws. He would make a good Master of Laws one day. "I thought the Night's Watch was forbidden from taking wives?" he asked.

"They are," his brother told him. "But there's a loophole."

"A loophole?" he repeated, clearly not believing it. "How could there be a loophole?"

"It took the War Maester and Rattlesnake to figure it out. It was in the oath of the Watch. They can't take any wives or father any children. Nothing was said about 'other activities' as the War Maester put it. So the Lord Commander declared so long as they were careful and not fall in love, the Watchmen were free to sleep with whoever they want."

"Why do you call the War Maester the War Maester?" asked Baelor. "Did he go to the Citadel?"

A sad look crossed his and his wife's face. They must have loved Sam Tarly and miss him. "He was supposed to," Maekar said. "But with all that happen and the…incident, he was forced to stay at the Wall. He learned everything he could from the books in Castle Black, the rest he figured out and wrote down."

"What incident?" Rhaenys asked him. Did something happen at the Wall?"

For once, her nephew didn't answer. He looked uncomfortable. "It's not my place to say."

"Where's that dragon?" Dalla asked, looking at Maekar. "I thought you said there was a dragon here."

"I said there might be a dragon here," he told her patiently.

Aegon said, "We sent word to Daenerys that you were coming south from the Wall. Hopefully she will come but her time in Essos is consuming."

He understood but asked, "We heard about her war but we never heard how it began."

Dark frowns appeared on the faces of all the adults there. They didn't like to remember it. "A Ghiscari slaver attacked her party while they were in Essos," Maekar's father told him. "He didn't survive the attempt but it made Daenerys angry and determined. She decided to end slavery once and for all. After she tricked Astapor into giving her the Unsullied and freed the slaves, all the Iron Throne could do was send her Westerosi men to aide her."

" _One of which was my husband,"_ Rhaenys thought. A man who could not bear to look at their child's grave and too hungry for glory to care about her. "When Braavos heard of her war," she found herself speaking, "They joined her in fighting. They helped her in making a new treaty with the Free Cities, reducing the trade of slavery to all but nothing." Their support had been a surprise but one that had been accepted.

"I don't think Rhaegar was ever more proud of her before the treaty was signed," said Aegon. Of course, he and his sister knew it was hard not to be proud of a dragon rider changing the world again.

* * *

The Watchmen and the wildings stayed for the night and the next day. The day after, they would return to the Wall. The wildings were told that if they wanted to stay, they could. None of them did, not even when the ladies of the court started giving them eyefuls.

Their last night, Aegon gave them a feast. Rhaenys sat by Maekar's side with his wife on his other side. She was technically eating the food in front of her but she was also watching the Watchmen. More specifically, she was watching their Lord Commander.

Jon Snow ate quietly and talked to his men just as quietly. He had welcomed Maekar when he came to the table but he did not extend his attention to anyone else. He had kept to himself for the visit, welcoming other people who weren't his with some reluctance. When the wildings took to the training yard to show their skills, people had also hoped to see the Dualfang again. He did not.

She noticed something else. He was trying hard to not look anywhere but his table. She watched him trying hard not to look up. She understood. He did not want to look up at her. _"Does he regret what he did?"_

She didn't hope that he did. Those kinds of emotions were long since gone. But she knew that she wanted him to see her, to talk to her again. An idea came to her. The song he had written. He had finished it and left it for her. She had learned it and practiced it until she knew every note. The times she had sung it could be counted on one hand, most for her Daeron.

Bur now, now she had a chance to show him what the song sounded like, and to show him what she still felt for him. She left the table and went to the musicians playing the corner. She spoke to them quietly. Once they agreed, she spoke to the herald. He banged his staff against the floor, silencing the hall. "The Princess Rhaenys wishes to sing a song in honor of the king's guests."

She went back to the musicians and stood beside them. All eyes were on her. She waited for the music to begin. As she heard the opening notes, she sang.

 _I hear your voice on the wind  
And I here you call out my name_

 _'Listen my child', you say to me  
'I am the voice of your history  
Be not afraid, come follow me  
Answer my call and I'll set you free'_

 _I am the voice in the wind and the pouring rain  
I am the voice of your hunger and pain  
I am the voice that always is calling you  
I am the voice, I will remain_

 _I am the voice in the fields when the summer's gone  
The dance of the leaves when the autumn winds blow  
Ne'er do I sleep throughout all the cold winter long  
I am the force that in springtime will grow_

 _I am the voice of the past that will always be  
Filled with my sorrow and blood in my fields  
I am the voice of the future  
Bring me your peace  
Bring me your peace and my wounds, they will heal_

 _I am the voice in the wind and the pouring rain  
I am the voice of your hunger and pain  
I am the voice that always is calling you  
I am the voice_

 _I am the voice of the past that will always be  
I am the voice of your hunger and pain  
I am the voice of the future  
I am the voice_

 _I am the voice  
I am the voice  
I am the voice_

As the song ended, she waited. The hall applauded her, praising her voice and song. She looked at Jon Snow. His eyes were wide with surprise and recognition. She smiled as they looked at each other. The faintest hint showed on his before he looked away.

As she walked back to the table, she saw that her nephew had a gleam in his eyes. "Lord Snow," he said, standing up as she sat down. "Could you grace the court with one of the songs you've written?"

She saw the disbelief and disregard in everyone's eyes. They didn't think the Wall or the Night's Watch had any songs. They thought if there were any, they would be crude and barbaric. But she knew that Jon would have written a song that would prove them wrong. "My son is right," Aegon said. "I remember your singing from Riverrun, Lord Commander. Please, give us the gift of another one."

He didn't answer with words. After a paused moment, he nodded in agreement. He stood up and oddly enough, so did the rest of his group. Maekar joined them as they walked to a clear space next to the musicians. Jon spoke quietly to them. Some of them placed their instruments down. The others started to play a slow note, nothing like she had heard at the start of a song.

As the note grew and then faded, Jon started to sing and the rest of them sang too, following him.

 _Oh...oh...h...  
Hey...  
Yeah..._

 _I've been wanderin' 'round in the dark  
Been lost somewhere where no light could shine on my heart  
I have known a pain so deep  
But I know my faith will free me_

 _[Get there] And I'll get through this  
[Get there] I'll find my way again  
So don't tell me that it's over  
'Cause each step just gets me closer_

 _(I will get there) I will get there  
(I will get there) I will get there somehow  
Cross that river (Cross that river)  
Nothing's stoppin' me now_

 _I will get through the night (Oh, yes, I will)  
And make it through to the other side  
(Get there) Get there  
(Get there) Get there_

 _I've been in these chains for so long  
I'll break free and I'll be there where I belong  
Hold my head up high, I'll stand tall  
And I swear this time I won't fall_

 _[Get there] I will do this  
[Get there] No matter what it takes  
'Cause I know no limitations  
And I'll reach my destination, I will get there_

 _I will get there (I will get there)  
I will get there (Ooh) somehow (Somehow)  
Cross that river (Cross that river)  
Nothing's stoppin' me now_

 _I will get through the night  
And make it through to the other side  
(Ooh, get there) Get there  
(Get there) Get there_

 _Well, the night is cold and dark  
But somewhere the sun is shining  
And I'll feel it shine on me  
I'll keep on tryin', I'll keep on tryin'_

 _I will get there (I will get there)  
I will get there somehow  
Cross that river (Cross that river)  
Nothing's stoppin' me now  
I will get through the night  
And make it through to the other side  
Get there, get there_

 _I will get there (I will get there)  
I will get there somehow (Somehow)  
Cross that river (I'll cross that river for you)  
Nothing's stoppin' me now (Oh...whoa...I)_

 _I will get through (Through) the night  
And make it through to the other side (Oh...ho...oh...ho...)  
(Get there) Get there  
(Ooh, get there) Get there (Whoa...oh...)_

 _I will get there (I will get there)  
I will get there somehow (Somehow)  
Cross that river (I'll cross it for your love)  
Nothing's stoppin' me now (No matter what)_

 _I will get through the night (I will get through the night)  
And make it through to the other side  
(Get there) Get there  
(Ooh, get there) Get there_

 _Get there_

 _Oh...ho...oh...  
I'll get there_

As they finished, the court was stunned into silence. Rhaenys couldn't blame them. She was just as shocked. Never in her life had she thought that snapping fingers would be used as a musical instrument. When the court finally applauded, Jon Snow looked proud of what they sang. He smiled and the smile made him happier and handsomer, like it did in Riverrun. Seeing that smile, Rhaenys felt her heart skip a beat, something she never thought she would feel for him again.

* * *

That night, she made a choice. She knew what rooms they had given the Lord Commander inside Maegor's Holdfast. Taking what secret passages she knew of in the keep, she emerged into the parlor room from behind a false wall. She approached the bedroom quietly. She saw the wolf sleeping near the fireplace. When its red eyes opened and saw her, she froze. For a moment, she wondered if it would raise the alarm. But after a moment of looking, its eyes closed again and went back to sleep. She breathed a little easier.

The door was closed but opened without a sound. She looked inside. Jon slept in the bed with a hand on the pillow. She didn't see any clothes on the floor but she knew that he never could hold to the heat of the city well. He was most likely naked beneath the sheets. Her throat a little dry at that thought.

She stepped closer to the bed and looked at his face. The moonlight shined down on him like it had all those years before. His hair was free from the knot and it framed his face. Seeing him asleep like this, so unguarded, he looked different. He looked so much younger, less the man he was and more the boy he had been. For a moment she was taken back to Riverrun by that face. What they had wasn't a love song but now to her, it felt close enough.

She reached out to touch him and his eyes snapped open. The world suddenly became a blur and she found herself against the bed with a dagger to her throat. Jon practically straddled her, looking ready to slice her throat. But he stopped short. "Princess?" he asked, his eyes losing his grogginess.

Even with the dagger pressing against her flesh, she wasn't afraid. "Hello, Jon," she said. "Haven't I told you to call me Rhaenys?"

He pulled the dagger away and got off her. "What are you doing?"

She sat up and came to the edge. There she sat down beside him. "It's been two days and we've not talk to each other. I never thought you would be so cold to me."

"I…didn't know what to say to you," he said quietly. "After…"

"After what?" she asked, "After you ran away from us, from me? After you fled on our wedding day?" He didn't say anything to that but he didn't let himself look ashamed of what he did. If anything, he looked as if he would accept whatever punishment given to him. But she wasn't going to punish him. "It's alright, I don't blame you. It's been too long for that. I can even see why you would do it."

He glanced at her. "Can you?"

"Yes, I can." Now she knew that if he had stayed, the North would've rebelled. Another war would've been fought to get him back. It would've been another War of the Usurper. Those who didn't die in the battles might've died from the loss of foods or diseases. What Jon did when he fled was stop that war from happening. He did it for the good of the realm.

She also knew it was why he went to the Wall instead of Winterfell. However, she still had a question. "But I would like to know why you didn't try running back to Winterfell. Surely Lord Eddard would've protected you. Were you afraid if you went back, he would tell you the truth?" She could understand if that was the reason why he didn't go there. He didn't answer her, instead staring at the floor. "Jon," she said, "You can tell me."

For a long moment, he still didn't say anything. "I was more afraid of what would happen between me and Lady Stark," he answered her question. "It's why I've never gone back to Winterfell."

As soon as he said those words, she knew what he meant. She had seen the relationship between him and Lady Catelyn. He wasn't afraid of learning the truth from Lord Stark. He was afraid of what that truth might do to the two of them. If what her father had said until he died was the truth, than Lady Catelyn would've been cold to a nephew, not her husband's bastard son. Lady Stark was still alive, same as Lord Stark.

"Princess—"

"Jon, call me by my name," she told him.

He looked at her for a long moment. "Why are you here?"

She smiled mysteriously. She had found it works wonders if she did that. "Why do you think I'm here?"

"I…I heard that you were married."

The smile vanished. She wondered how he knew that. Then she remembered that news does come to the Wall, however long it might take. And the wedding of a princess would reach them. "I was."

"…Was he a good man?"

"I thought he was. But it turned out he was more in love with glory and deeds than me." She didn't have much hope when she was told she would be married to him. But she still tried to love him. "He went to aid Dany in fighting the slavers. He died."

"You don't miss him." He didn't ask the question.

She felt angry at his voice. Did he mean to judge her? He didn't have the right. "He left because he couldn't stand living where our son had died."

Jon Snow didn't respond to her angry. He responded to her pain. "I'm sorry. I know what it is like to lose someone you love."

She heard the pained anguish he spoke with. He had lost someone, someone who was more than his comrade. He lost someone he cared for, loved even. A little pang of jealously hit her heart at that. It felt wrong. They weren't young anymore. She shouldn't feel jealous like this. "Who was she?" she asked.

He was surprised. "How…?"

"I know," she told him. "Was she a wilding?" It made the most sense.

He nodded quietly. "She was. Her name was Ygritte. She was a spearwife with Mance Rayder's army. We…we became lovers when I was ordered to spy on them. She died when they assaulted the Wall, killed by an arrow from above." His voice was still filled with pain. "I never knew who it was fired that arrow. For all I know, I could've been the one."

If she had been younger, she would've been jealous of this girl. She might've been glad that she was dead too. But now she didn't. "I'm sorry." She reached out and touched his shoulder. It was warm to her touch. He didn't shy away from her touch. She looked at his skin. There were scars on his body. "Just how long have you been fighting?"

"Practically since I arrived at the Wall," he said. "I lost a lot of men, some I've considered friends. Ser Daemon Sand, Ned, Tommen," he listed off only a few names. "A lot more have been wounded, some horrifically so."

"Quentyn," she said, her cousin's covered eyes coming to her mind, "His eyes."

"They weren't clawed. I saw the Other press its hands against his eyes and he screamed. The Other was killed but we all watched Quentyn's eyes turned blue." He couldn't look at her, only at the floor. "We had no choice to stop whatever was happening. There was only one thing to do."

Horror filled her stomach. "You tore out his eyes?"

"We had to. It was the only way to save him." He shuddered. "I can still see the poker glowing in the dark room, the smell of hissing flesh. I wish I didn't have to do that."

She was horrified, not at what he had done, but why it had to be. If they had to take out his eyes, the only way to prevent him from dying would be to cauterize the wound. Suddenly, she wished she hadn't learned how to treat wounds from the Grand Maester before she had married. "Has he ever blamed you?"

"No. But sometimes I think that should've been better."

She heard his voice be choked with tears. There was something else there. What was it? "Jon, what is it?" she asked him, "Tell me."

"Sam," he told her.

That was all she had to hear. She remembered how they were friends back in Riverrun. All these years at the Wall, they would've been like brothers. And he blamed himself for what happening to him. "It's not your fault he died," she told him. "You said it yourself, he rode into battle."

"It is my fault. I should've stopped him from riding out to save Gilly and her son. He wasn't a warrior. It was practically a miracle that he had survived until the end." A suppressed sob racked his body. She felt it through her hands. "I should've known. I should've seen it was all a trap for him. I should've seen that Other lying in wait. I could've pulled Sam out of that spear's path."

The more he talked, the more she realized what happened up there. And the more she listened, the more she felt sorry for him. She reached around and hugged him. "I'm sorry," she told him. He reached out and clasped her hand, holding onto it like his line to safety. They sat together like for a long moment.

Jon Snow turned his head to look at her. She couldn't remember who it was moved first. What she did know was that they started kissing. As she kissed his lips, she smelled him. Even though he had been in the city for the past two days, he smelled of snow and wood smoke. A fire, a need, began to burn in her stomach. She knew what it was. She didn't try to stop it.

But Jon pulled away. "We can't," he whispered in a hoarse voice.

"Can't we?" she asked him. "We're here, now. I know the Watch has looked at its oath a little differently. You must've slept with plenty of women."

"No, only Ygritte," he said.

She wasn't surprised by his denial. What she was surprised by how long it had to have been for him. "Why?"

He couldn't look at her. His eyes fell to the floor. "You know why."

He didn't say it but she knew what he meant. "Still?" she asked. "After all this time? After Ygritte?"

His head stayed there, not looking at her. Then it rose up and he looked her in the eyes. "I never stopped."

She kissed him again. His attempts to stop her were feebler this time. Soon he started kissing her back. Her hands reached out and touched him, feeling his chest underneath her palms. It was as warm as his shoulder. She could feel the muscles he had made from the years of fighting. She enjoyed the feeling, just like she enjoyed his hands on her hips. It felt right.

His lips moved down her jawline to her neck. Her head lifted up to the ceiling, her lips parted in a silent gasp. Gods, what he was doing to her neck. She didn't want it to end. It made them fall to the bed. A breathless little giggle escaped her lips. It was a long time since she felt like this.

But Jon stopped what he was doing. It left her confused. He hovered over her, his body obvious for her eyes. She drank it in like a thirsty woman having water. But there was hesitation in his eyes, and doubt. "Are you sure?" he asked her. "If we—"

He was thinking of her. It was endearing. But she didn't want to stop. She lifted up and pushed him down. She stood up from the bed so he could see. She had worn a robe when coming here but she had left it outside. Now she wore all were her smallclothes. Her hands reached up and pulled at the straps on her shoulders.

She stood naked in front of him. It wasn't the body of a young woman he saw, but the body of a mother, something that had carried life and gave birth to it. But he looked at her body with love, love that she had wanted all this time. "Do you want to stop?" she asked him.

He didn't say anything. He held a hand for her to take. She took it and he pulled her gently down to the bed.

* * *

The next morning, she and the royal family watched as the Night's Watch left the Red Keep and King's Landing. Maekar said goodbye to them all, exchanging a warrior's grasp with each man. He said quiet words to Jon before stepping away. Rhaenys said nothing but when she saw Jon's eyes find her, she smiled slightly at him. He showed the love in his eyes and that was it. That was all she needed.

She watched him as he led his men out of the courtyard. They would ride to the docks to board their ship back to Eastwatch. Once the formality was done, they all turned to go their separate ways. "Thank you, Aunt Rhaenys," Maekar said to her quietly.

"For what, Maekar?" she asked him.

"For whatever it was you did to Jon. When I was to return, he originally wasn't going to come with me."

"What changed?"

Her nephew was grim as he said, "An old seer from the Free Folk told him that it would be his last chance to go south of the Neck, to feel that warm again. She told him that he would die for what he served. His lifeblood would spill out against the snow of the true north. He came south for you, to see you one last time."

That was all he said. He left to go be with his wife and child. Rhaenys felt a chill in her stomach. She would never see Jon again? Why didn't he say anything to her? She stopped herself. She knew why. _"He didn't want me to know it would be the last time."_ She walked to the godswood and stood before the heart tree.

She looked at the face and thought of Riverrun. She thought of the last night she had been alone with Jon. How they held each other in the night, thinking what they would never work. The last night now felt like that. She smiled sadly. She wouldn't grieve too deeply. Jon knew what he had been doing. So had she.

She touched the face. "Goodbye, Jon," she said to herself. She turned around and walked away, back to her life as she knew it.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

Hmm, that's a bit of a jump, wasn't it?

Trust me I was never going to cover Jon's tenure at the Wall. That pretty much happen the way we all know it happened. Personally I always liked those chapters.

I know that I've put Dark Sister up North but I think that's what happened to it. Nobody knows what happened to it, except that its last owner was Bloodraven. It's all we've got to go on until Mr. Martin gives us more.

The first song was _The Voice_ by Celtic Woman and the second was _I will get there_ by Boyz II Men. I always felt the second song was appropriate for the Night's Watch. Thanks to them, they just black gospel music for Westeros.

Alright, we've got one last chapter before the story is done. If you were surprised or annoyed by this chapter, the next one should do more.

I'll see you all next chapter!


	40. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Epilogue

"Talking"

" _Thinking"_

(Location: Harrenhal University)

"I'm going to destroy this thing," Rhae growled as she looked at the book in front of her. "I am going to rip it to pieces, burn it in a great blaze, and laugh as the pages burn before me."

Mya looked at her from the kitchen. "Rhae, you know you're not going to burn the book," she said with complete exasperation. "You love books too much."

She looked at her best friend. They had been through thick and thin since middle school. Mya's father used to say they were just like their ancestors. Since Rhae was a history major, she knew what he had been talking about. Mya Stone had been a handmaid to Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. Despite the difference in their status, they had been friends and remained so when Mya was officially made a Baratheon, adopted by her uncle.

Still, the friendship didn't stop her from scowling at her friend. "Mya, don't ruin my foul mood."

Mya sighed in exasperation across the apartment. "You've been saying the same thing to every book you've picked up and got mad at."

"That's because they're not telling me what I want to know."

"Your theory is a little far-fetched. You know that."

"It is not," she insisted. "I know it's the truth. Westeros's history has been tampered with." Ever since she visited Winterfell back in high school and read their version of history, she knew that history had been changed.

At first she had thought it was a discrepancy in the one book but the more she read the more she found the same discrepancy. It was like history had erased a person, pretending that he didn't exist. The strange thing was that in the North one person was gone and in the south was another. The only thing that Daemon Targaryen and Jon Snow shared was that they had both joined the Night's Watch before the Second Long Night occurred but that was it. The fact that neither showed up where the other was made her believe it was the same person, just with a different name.

The thing was, whenever she tried to bring it up, people either didn't believe her or outright scoffed at it. Even when she pursued it as her maesterial degree, her teachers either laughed like it was a good joke or suggested that she tried something else. Anyone else would've given up on it after so much ridicule.

But she didn't. She pursued it with a tenacity some people would've called madness if they were in the middle ages. She didn't give up and she wasn't going to give up now. She stood up from her chair and grabbed the book. "I'll be out," she declared, heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" Mya asked, looking at her. "Wait, don't tell me. You're going to the library."

"Of course I am," she said, putting on her coat.

"Rhae, have you ever considered taking a break one of these nights? You don't need to study."

She looked back at Mya. "I don't study all the time, Mya. You know I go out. I went to see that blockbuster movie everyone was talking about."

"That was three weeks ago," she said flatly.

It was true, but it was beside the point. "Look, I've got to return this book back to the library. And I know that my brother is coming over, so it's better to leave now."

She didn't have to look back to know that Mya was blushing. "I'm just making him some dinner."

"I know that. I also know what will come after dinner." She glanced back at Mya and saw she was blushing even harder. "Mya, you guys have been going out since we were sophomores. I'm surprised that Egg hasn't popped the question yet."

"Y-you mean he's going to?" She tried to hold the stutter in but it slipped out.

Rhae stopped at the door, her hand on the doorknob. "If he is, he hasn't told me," she said. "I don't know what's taking him so long."

"Well, he is a prince."

"And I'm a princess and you're a lord's daughter. And we're not even important."

She knew Mya was rolling her eyes. "Rhae, that's not true."

"Of course it's true. You're the fourth child of Lord Baratheon and my grandfather's oldest brother is the king, and that makes me and Aegon the gods only knows what position in line for the throne. The media doesn't care about us. It's why we're able to study here in peace." She opened the door. "I'll be back."

The evening sky was starting to creep in as she came out of the apartment block. It wasn't warm but it wasn't cool. It was just right. She started walking and the campus soon showed itself. Harrenhal University had been built around the ruins of Harrenhal, even using some of the ruins as buildings. Some people might've said that was wrong and even blasphemous. Rhae just thought it added to the richness of the classes. After all, Harrenhal University had a big history program.

She stepped onto the campus and looked at the campus. Despite the bad history of the ruins, it found great success as a university than a castle ever did. It was changed into a school when Maekar II convinced the maesters of Oldtown to begin a second school there. A city grew around the school until it became what she saw in front of her. It was because of the university and the city that when people thought of the Riverlands, they thought of here first and Riverrun, the kingdom capital, second.

She considered walking amongst the ruins for a little, get a feel for the history again. It was something that she loved to do. Perhaps it was because she loved history. She always felt like it was a story that she could read and reread and find something new each time. When she went to university, she refined her love of history into a focus of medieval age, specifically the era of the Three Wise Dragons. The kings Aegon VI, Maekar II, and Maegor II, that was when the medieval age started to turn to the modern.

" _No, Rhae,"_ she told herself. _"Go to the library."_

The library was one of the new buildings, having been built over the Flowstone Yard. She walked in and ignored the sheer size of it. They were old friends now. The librarian looked up once. "Hello, Princess," he said.

"Hey, Ed," she said back. She put the book on the desk.

"Returning it already?"

She frowned at it again. "It didn't have what I want."

He took the book and started the process of returning it. "Are you going to try and find another one?"

She nodded. "There's got to be a book in here that proves my theory." He didn't laugh at her. Ed was one of the few people who didn't disprove her theory instantly. The first time he heard it, he claimed to be quite interested and wanted to hear more.

She left the librarian's desk and went deep into the shelves. She knew the path to the historical section and the shelves that held the books she needed. She had been going the shelves steadily, still hoping that she would find the book that she needed. She had been hoping to find a connection between Daemon Targaryen and Jon Snow. Now she was just hoping she found something that showed they lived in the same era.

She found the shelves and stared at them with a mixture of hatred and weariness. "Hello, you foul blasted things," she said to them. "Shall we get to it?" They didn't answer. They never did, no matter how many insults she threw at them.

She started down the shelves, scanning the titles. "Excuse me," a voice said from the end.

Rhae looked that way and saw a man standing there. She recognized him. "Jon, right?" she asked. "Jon Drake?" House Drake was a family formed from the union of Prince Viserys and Sansa Stark. As such, they were distantly related. But it was only that marriage that made them related and it happened 1,000 years ago.

"Yeah, that's me," he said, coming closer to her. He looked different from the last time she saw him. He had a beard now and his hair was longer. "I'm glad you remember me."

" _Wow, he's handsome,"_ she thought. Despite what some people might think, she did have a libido and it was currently telling her that what she was looking at was a catch, plain and simple. They had shared history classes before he went into archeology. "Working out in the field has done wonders for you," she told him. His black flannel shirt emphasized the muscles she knew he didn't have before. The straps of the backpack pulling against the shirt also helped.

"And you're still as beautiful as ever," he replied, smiling a smile that made his violent eyes seem brighter.

Her stomach did funny things. The last time she had felt like this was with her last boyfriend, Joffrey Lannister. She thought that what they had was serious. He didn't and ended up sleeping with her cousin. It backfired on him when they both gave him a black eye.

But Jon wasn't Joffrey. She self-consciously touched her short hair. She hated the curls she got when it was long. Now she wondered if she kept it long so he could see what it looked like. "What can I do to help you?" she asked him.

"Actually, it's what I can do to help you. Are you still pursuing that theory of yours?" he asked.

"You know I am." He had been rare in that he didn't or did believe her. She had never pressed him about it but that was because she hadn't really known him outside of class.

"I think I can help you with it."

She had heard those words before and they never came through. Still, she guessed she could hear what he had to say. "What would that be?" she asked, trying to keep the disbelief out of her voice. It worked, somewhat.

He didn't react to it. "I went back home to Seawolf's Rest over the summer. My family was hosting an excavation of Seadragon, the castle where the Drakes used to rule from."

She knew about it. That's what puzzled her. "I thought it wasn't a ruin." It had been preserved to serve as a museum of sorts.

"There are some spots that haven't been touched," he explained. "No one really expected to find anything but in a cellar, I found a set of old books that somehow had been preserved. It was examined and studied. When we realized what it was, I thought of you and I transcribed." He put the backpack down and pulled something out.

He held a binder. When she took it and opened it, she saw that it was full of papers. She started reading the first page instantly.

They named me Lord Commander. We barely survived Mance Rayder's attack on the Wall and they name me Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. I should probably blame Sam and Quentyn. They were talking amongst the men, to Cotter Pyke and Ser Denys.

When I came to the Wall, I didn't expect to become the Lord Commander. Then again, there are many things I didn't expect when I came here. I didn't expect to become the steward to the Old Bear. I didn't expect to spy on the Free Folk from within their own camp. I…didn't expect to fall in love again.

I didn't know what to do with being the Lord Commander. I went to Maester Aemon to ask for guidance. He told me the same thing he told his brother, King Aegon V. "Kill the boy," he said, "And let the man be born." He also suggested that I write a journal, that perhaps it would help focus my thoughts if I saw them written. I have no idea if what he said was true or not. I never wrote a journal before. Perhaps now would be a good time to start.

Jon Snow

998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch

302 AL

Rhae tore her eyes away from the paper. "Is this genuine?" she asked. "This isn't some kind of bad prank?"

He shook his head. "No, it's real. Every word that we found has been written is there," he told her, pointing at the binder.

"What was it doing in Seadragon? Shouldn't it be at the Wall?" As soon as she had asked that question, she started thinking about it. During the Second Long Night, the Wall somehow fell, leaving a gaping hole between Castle Black and Queensgate. Whatever caused it also made it impossible to repair. Time eroded both sides of the hole, making it larger until it covered the area from the Nightfort to the Sable Hall. After that, the Night's Watch practically fought to keep the gap from growing any bigger.

"I'm not," Jon told her. "It doesn't say. But keep reading."

Oh, she was going to keep reading. She was going to need better lighting and a chair. She started walking back to the tables, grabbed the nearest chair and sat in it. She opened the binder again and devoured the words within.

I'm going to try something that will make the Night's Watch enraged. But there's no other choice. The Free Folk must come through the Wall. It's the only way to prevent them from being killed by the Others. Those who haven't seen the Others don't believe that they are real. They're more focused on the wildings. And yet, those who have seen the Others don't want to give up their distrust and hatred of the wildings. Both sides have been fighting for too long. But this has to end.

The Free Folk can settle in the Gift. But since that borders the North, the lords will not like the Free Folk there. There will be protests, from the Last Hearth and Bear Island particularly. It is why I've asked for a delegation from the North to come to the Wall so that they can have a voice in the matter. I received word from Winterfell. Lord Stark is sending the Pack to be that voice. They will be the ones who will contend with the Free Folk when they take their fathers' seat. I also asked Maester Aemon to stand as a representative of the Iron Throne, due to his Targaryen blood.

In that aspect, I am glad. Although I would like to see Lord Stark again, I cannot. It would mean that we would have to talk and I must admit the prospect terrifies me. I already know what the men say when I'm not in the room. They might not say when I'm there but I know it's on their minds. It's all rumor and questions now and I mean to keep it so. It's why I asked Maester Aemon to represent the Iron Throne. I want no dragons from the south coming to the Wall. It would defeat my coming here.

Jon Snow

998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch

302 AL

I…I nearly died last night. My own men attacked me. If it hadn't been for Robb, Edd, and Ser Daemon, I would've been killed. I knew that the Watch did not like what was happening with the Free Folk. But I didn't expect that they would try to do this, when the castle was filled with lords from the North!

Does this mean I have been a horrible Lord Commander? No, I can't believe that. A horrible Lord Commander would've let the Free Folk die out beyond the Wall. If that happened, the army of the dead would swell to numbers I shudder to think of. Could the Watch be so blinded by their grudges that they were willing to let that happen?

That's wrong of me to say. The entire Watch doesn't believe that. The outrage they had against the traitors this morning was so loud, I wouldn't have been surprised if the Last Hearth thought there was a storm on the horizon. Several have demanded they lose their heads for what they attempted. The Pack agreed and the Free Folk were angry they could've lost their chance for safety.

I agreed with their sentiments. The traitors were executed. I killed them myself in the yard with the Watch, the Free Folk, and the Pack watching. I looked them in the eyes as they died. When my duty was done, I looked and saw all of them watching me. They looked at me with respect. Perhaps this will help smooth the talks now.

Jon Snow

998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch

302 AL

I received a letter today, from King's Landing. It bore the Targaryen seal. I opened it, holding out against hope that it was from someone I wanted to talk to. But I found it came from the King and his queen. No sooner had I read the letter than I threw it into the fire. They wanted to write back. They will not get it. My name is not what they think it is.

The Free Folk have settled in the Gift with little trouble. So far, the lords of the North have no complaints about them being there. There had been some uncertainty about the Free Folk stealing a woman to get a wife. I talked the chiefs of the Free Folk and managed to make a compromise with them: A wilding could try to steal a woman but they also had to give her family a warning beforehand. In return, the family agreed to welcome him into their hall before he stole her and that they wouldn't actually kill him.

No one was particularly happy about the compromise. Quentyn told me that was a sign of how good of a compromise it was. Now that I think about it, perhaps what we had accomplished was how courting actually began. In the Seven Kingdoms, a man marrying a woman does technically take her away from her family. That could be seen as stealing. I wonder what the maesters in Oldtown would think of that.

On the note of the maesters, I have been thinking of sending Sam down to Oldtown so he can forge his chain. When I brought it up to him, he nearly fell into a panic. He told me that no Tarly had ever been sent to Oldtown. I reminded him that he swore his life to the Watch and he obeyed the Lord Commander of the Watch. I had to remind that Maester Aemon was an old man who would most likely die soon. If he did, we would need a new maester. But I also told him that he would only go when I was sure there would be no trouble between the Free Folk, the Watch, and the North.

I've received word of Sansa and Prince Viserys. They've finally married and gone to their lands. The castle is being built as is the port. Prince Viserys apparently took a step in furthering himself from the royal family. He changed his house name to Drake. I don't know what the king thinks about that. Perhaps he might think it's a new Blackfyre family that will try to take the Iron Throne. Or perhaps he thinks nothing of it.

Jon Snow

998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch

303 AL

Rhae stopped herself from going any further to look at Jon. "Do you mind if I take a highlighter to this?" she asked him. She had to mark what she thought was important.

He nodded. "Go ahead." He even held out a highlighter for her.

She took it and flipped through the pages. Every time she came across a page that she felt was important, she marked it. What she marked, she also read.

I had a surprise today. One of the wandering crows brought in recruits, two of which were Ned and Tommen. The last time I had seen them was at Riverrun. They had been boys then. They were men now but it was clear, despite Tommen's knighthood, they were green. While I was glad to have seen them, I reminded myself of Uncle Benjen's words. A man must earn his chance on the Wall. I learned that lesson harsher than I hope they will.

There is the question of Tommen though. I had always believed that Lord Tywin was preparing him to be his heir. I took him aside and asked him why he had come. He told me that he wasn't the heir his grandfather wanted, he couldn't be. But Lord Tywin would never accept that, so that was why he came to the Wall.

Whatever the case may be for him being here, Lord Tywin could possibly come after him. For all I know, he could be on his way right now. He would have to contend with the North first if he wants to come. That should give me time to ensure Tommen swears the oath.

News also came with the crow. Prince Aegon had married Lady Margaery in a grand wedding. I remember how unhappy he had been with that marriage until he gave his family and the Tyrells his demands. I also wondered about Mya. Now that she was a proper Baratheon, was she at Storm's End? If she was at the wedding it was probably in Lord Stannis's attendance, next to Lady Shireen.

There was no news about Rhaenys, only that she was at the wedding. I was glad and saddened to hear that, for the same reason. I can't think of her anymore. My place is here at the Wall.

Jon Snow

998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch

308 AL

We got the news before he arrived. King Aegon's son, Crown Prince Maekar, was to be fostered at the Wall. I had Sam check the histories. This had never happened before, not even before Aegon the Conqueror bent Westeros to his will.

The prince came into Castle Black with an armed escort. That escort left once he was properly placed in my care. That's when he made his first mistake. In the yard, in front of the entire Watch, he called me uncle. I made him clean the common hall after supper, without any help. It was cruel, I know. When he was done, I took him aside and told him never to call me that again.

The free folk were curious about Maekar, especially the children his age. They showed their curiosity by teasing and mocking him, calling him little kneeler. He got angry and attacked them. Instead, he was beaten. I had Sam give him basic aide but told him to leave the bruises be.

Then we had the room. He complained that he was being insulted and he had to do something. "You could've done something," I told him. "You could've done nothing." And that was his first lesson as a leader: you can't always react and you must understand those you are going to lead. He didn't understand. I told him to spend the next day with the free folk. Hopefully, he will learn what I want him to do.

Jon Snow

998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch

317 AL

It has been five years since Maekar came to Castle Black to foster to the day. He has changed and I cannot take all the credit for that. Sam has taught him, the same as Ned, Tommen, Quentyn, and all the men of the Watch. But even with his change, there is still some way to go for him.

For the first time, I've initiated a change to the Night's Watch. It's probably not a change, more like a more thorough looking at the Watch oath. With so many free folk women and spearwives near and manning the Wall, it's hard for everyone not to find someone to sleep with. A man of the Watch going off to dig for buried treasure in Mole Town is one thing. But to actively sleep with woman here is something else entirely.

But Sam had noticed something in the oath. It was something we discussed amongst ourselves privately, our own Pack at Riverrun. He pointed that the oath prevents us from taking wives or siring children. But he also pointed out that there is nothing in the oath that prevents from "activities," as he put it.

It was a valid, something that we all agreed on. But Edd pointed out how exactly we were supposed to enforce no one actually made a baby. Grenn offered that they just pull out before they're done. It was dismissed because we had no idea if they would. Then Quentyn said, "If we only had sheathes for their swords."

Now Sam designing something to that effect with scraps of leather. It's something that requires experimenting. The Watch was all too happy to volunteer for the experiments. They became less happy when they realized just what the experiments were. No one likes their cock being measured and then compared to others.

We've heard of how Daenerys Targaryen has begun to march across Essos, freeing the slaves that she comes across. I've been told that no official support has been given but a lot of men from the Seven Kingdoms have gone to Essos. They say that she rides the dragon and the dragon listens only to her. Some have said that the dragon is Lyanna Stark reborn. I've heard that it came to Winterfell but would not come to the castle itself. Perhaps this is something I should talk to the skinchangers from the Free Folk.

Jon Snow

998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch

322 AL

It would seem that Maekar has become interested in women now. It is normal for a four-and-ten year old boy. It was a good thing the change was made to the Watch. If it hadn't, I do not doubt that some of the Watch would've taken him to Mole Town so he could learn. At least now he could learn properly about women.

It's not just any girl Maekar's interested in. It is Dalla, Val's daughter. She is a leader of the Free Folk, one of their best. Ever since the change was made, she had been with Quentyn. It is almost strange to see a Dornish prince with one of the Free Folk. But it makes a certain sense if I give some thought to it.

Maekar wants to know how to impress Dalla. If he was a typical southron prince, he probably would've just lorded his supposed authority, thinking that would impress her. If he hadn't, he probably would've ordered her to his bed. Either would've earned him pain from her. But he didn't do that. Instead, he came to me, asking for advice. I give him the only advice I knew how to give: I told him not to be drastic or overbearing. All he had to be was himself around her.

He was skeptical but he took the advice. I've seen him talking to Dalla and walking with her, always in sight of Quentyn or Dalla. There are a lot of smiles and laughs between the two of them. I do wonder if the king plans to betroth his son to a lady in the Seven Kingdoms. If he does, I have not heard a word of it. Besides, whatever marriage that is being planned, what could happen between Maekar and Dalla would be better. It would help ease the relation between the Free Folk and the Iron Throne.

Still, seeing the two of them together, clearly falling in love with each other but not saying a word, it makes me remember my own youth. Riverrun is still a clear memory in my mind. There are nights where I dream about my last meeting in the godswood with Princess Rhaenys. Sometimes I wonder, what would've happened if I had said yes. If I knew what came the next day, if I accepted it, would I have told her that I loved her?

No, there's no point in thinking about it. It happened. There's nothing I can do about it. She is never coming to the Wall.

Jon Snow

998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch

326 AL

The king has called for his son to return home. Prince Maekar asked me to come, to stand with him, his wife, and son before the Iron Throne. I had considered refusing him, saying that my place was at the Wall. But the temptation to see her, see Rhaenys again, was too great. I agreed.

We sailed to King's Landing from Eastwatch. When we walked into the throne room, my eyes found her. She stood close to the Iron Throne. I had thought her beautiful at Riverrun. Now I knew better. She was more beautiful now, with the wisdom and grace that came with age.

When I saw Arya in the white of the Kingsguard, I was proud of her. When I left the throne room, she came to find me. The first thing I did was ruffle her head like we used to do back in Winterfell. She hugged me and we talked. We talked about what has happened to us.

That night, there was a man waiting for me in my quarters. It was Lord Varys. I hadn't really known him the last time I was in King's Landing. He talked to me and revealed something that I and the other had long thought about: he was GOTR. He had seen me in King's Landing after Riverrun and knew what would come next. He could see the war before it happened and he refused to let it happen. That was he helped me flee King's Landing. It was all in the word he used as an identity. GOTR: Good Of The Realm. I listened to his explanation and when he was done, I thanked him.

I didn't do much while staying in King's Landing. I simply told Edd and Maekar to keep their eyes on the others, Young Sam especially. For Quentyn, I told him to pay attention. After what happened the day before, I fear that he might harbor resentment to House Tarly. It is best if nothing ever comes of that. I also talked to King Aegon about the state of the Wall and the Watch. He promised me that if it was needed, he would send men to the Wall, men who were just dregs from the prisons. He also promised me support in resources and supplies.

His reason for this generosity was because I raised his son to be a good man and perhaps a better king then him. I found that hard to believe since the people of the Seven Kingdoms already sing praises of Aegon VI.

I slept alone that night but I awoke and saw Rhaenys there. She was there, in my quarters. I would have been a fool if I didn't know what she was there for. I could've told her to go, to leave. But I didn't. She stayed in my bed that night.

We left the next morning and I knew that I would never see her again. But I was glad for what we had.

Jon Snow

998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch

331 AL

It seems that I will continue to change the Watch as it is known. I have made it so any woman who wished to join the Watch can. I knew that the Sand Snakes, especially the elder four, would not resist the chance. It wasn't so much as a response to defend Westeros as it was a chance for them to prove themselves better than me. They never liked how my fortunes seemed to have changed after Riverrun.

The women of Bear Island answered too. Jack's daughter arrived at the Wall with Dacey's mace in hand. The Wall is fit to burst with the men and women manning it. It makes me glad that I had ordered the other castles be reopened. If I had given that order nowadays, it would have caused more problems than needed.

Prince Viserys brought his children from Seadragon. He claimed that he wanted to show them what it was like to be a man of the Watch. They came to Castle Black, four children in all. The eldest was my age when I came to the Wall. Gods, looking at him, so young, I don't think I've felt my age.

But it was his youngest son, Nathaniel, who has my attention. The boy is six years old and looks like a Stark, except for his violet eyes, but there is something else there too. I don't know why but he reminds me of Rhaenys. Is it in the way he walks or speaks? Perhaps it's how his hair is a shade darker and in the right light, looks black? Viserys mentioned that his niece came to visit seven years ago. She stayed there close to a year. Am I thinking too much on this?

In any event, the boy has no interest of joining the Watch. He's told me that he wants to sail the sea and explore the world. Viserys has told me that when he's ready, he will be fostered out to the Iron Islands with Theon. I still find myself surprised he rules the Iron Islands, making them change. I think that he has his sister's aide in that, and her husband's. Arya told me that she and Lady Brienne attended the wedding of Willas Tyrell to Asha Greyjoy. She couldn't figure out who was more shocked, Lord Mace, Lady Olenna, or Theon. I just hope the boy will turn out alright.

When they left, I tried to think not much of it. But Nathan plagues my thoughts.

Jon Snow

998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch

338 AL

Lady Catelyn has passed away. I received this news along a request from Lord Eddard to come to Winterfell, to attend her funeral. I had received plenty of requests to come back to Winterfell. I had refused them all. But this one, I couldn't refuse. I traveled to Winterfell alone.

Winterfell looked exactly the same as when I left for Riverrun, all those years ago. Robb greeted me at the gate. His children swarmed around me, wanting to hear stories about what was beyond the Wall. Robb and I looked at each other. We knew what this was like. I remember doing the same whenever Uncle Benjen came to visit.

All the Starks were coming to Winterfell, even as far south as Rickon with Lady Shireen Baratheon. I was the last to arrive, having been summoned when she was dead. Lord Eddard was happy to see us all. But when he saw me, he turned solemn. The day after Lady Stark's funeral, I met with him in Robb's solar.

Once we were alone there, he confessed. Everything that the king had said about me, everything about me being Lyanna Stark's son, it was all true. He told me how he found his sister in the Tower of Joy, how she begged him to take me away from the king and burn her so he couldn't have her, and how he obeyed her, promising to keep the secret. And now that secret was broken. I was silent and so was he. He was waiting for my response. I broke my silence and told him, "You're still my father."

The next morning I came down to break my fast. Prince Viserys and Sansa were there with their children. I sat with them and ate with them. It was there I learned that the dragon Daenerys Targaryen had flown with was now with Nathaniel. It seemed that once she had died and all her efforts crumbled into chaos, the dragon flew from Essos to Seadragon. It tolerated Viserys's family but only allowed Nathaniel to ride it.

I asked him where the dragon. He told me that it had stayed at Seadragon. Apparently he told the dragon they were coming to Winterfell and it would not move from it rested, no matter how much he cajoled or pleaded with it. If there was any remaining suspicions left in my mind, they were gone with that talk.

I left Winterfell for the Wall the next day. I said goodbye to all the Starks but I confess that I gave more attention to Nathaniel. I told him to grow up to be a good man that would do great things. He smiled and nodded. I left Winterfell, knowing that I would never come back. I couldn't. Yet I rode, remembering Nathaniel's smile. I probably shouldn't have but I felt proud of him.

Jon Snow

998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch

341 AL

Rhae put the lighter down as she stared at the page. There was more, much more, in the binder. It provided an insight to life in the Watch and the events in that time. But she was more concerned about what she found. "This is it," she said. "This is what I've been looking for. This will cement my thesis and prove the maesters wrong." It would rewrite history as people knew it. She looked over at Jon. "How can I ever thank you?"

"Would dinner work?" he asked, trying to be casual but clearly nervous. "I know a place not too far away."

She looked at him, realizing what the implication behind his words was. He wasn't just offering dinner. He liked her and wanted to see if it would go anywhere. She liked him too. She didn't really talk to him when they shared classes. Perhaps that was her mistake. Perhaps she should take him up on his offer.

"You know what?" she said, getting out of the chair. "That sounds great. Why don't we take it a step further and consider it a date?"

A smile broke out on his face, showing him to be surprised but happy at her suggestion. "I would like that," he told her.

She packed up her stuff and together they walked out of the library. Tomorrow she could start the work on bring her thesis together and show those maesters just how wrong they were. Tonight, she was going to have dinner with a good looking man. She didn't know how exactly, but she knew that this was the start of something she wouldn't regret.

 **End**

 **Author's note:** Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

Like I said, it would be more surprising or annoying. But here we are, at the end of this story.

I warned you all at the start of this: I was going to be taking an old and familiar notion, force it to its knees, and promptly screw it up the ass. This story has divided people. A lot have been complaining about how this story took a turn for the worse near the end but others have said it was good. I can only say this to it all: I have succeeded in my attempt.

You can probably imagine what Nathaniel Drake's life would be like. He grew to be an explorer, traveling the world and finding new lands, bringing prestige and rewards to his house, making it one of the more powerful houses in the North. As to his name, I was tempted to name him Francis, but Nathaniel would've been a lot more fun.

I could've tied up a few more ends with Jon Snow's journal. But this is Game of Thornes. There are a lot of things we don't know about and it doesn't look like that's going to change any time soon.

I'll see you all in the next story!


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